Follow Me Through The Rain
by a. loquita
Summary: Several years into the future the man ultimately responsible for Johanna Beckett's murder is on trial. But for Castle and Beckett the state of things is not how either of them thought it would all turn out. Castle/Beckett. Complete
1. Chapter 1

Title: Follow Me Through the Rain  
>Pairing: CastleBeckett; with very minor mentions of Alexis/OC and Esposito/Lanie  
>Summary: Several years into the future the man ultimately responsible for Johanna Beckett's murder is on trial. But for Castle and Beckett, the state of things is not how either of them thought it would all turn out.<br>Categories: Angst, romance, humor, cold case murder investigation  
>Word count: ~33,000 (12 chapters total)<br>A/N: Massive thank you to mrspollifax for her beta work and incredible support, love you! Thanks also to arafel_sedai for sharing her knowledge of law enforcement protocol and her encouraging words along the way while I wrote the first draft.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 1<strong>_

Rick Castle finds a seat in the back row of the packed courthouse. The crowd is so full of anticipation about the likely testimony that it seems to be alive around him, buzzing like insects on a hot summer evening. Most in the courtroom are here because they're lawyers involved in the trial, reporters that have been keeping the two-week long trial in the headlines every day, family members affected by the tragedy of the case, or members of the general public—and there are many that have become obsessed with this case— that have scored one of the precious remaining up-close views of the live action. Castle knows someone who knows someone, and that's how he's gotten one of the final empty seats.

After sitting down, Rick scans the crowd and finds her. She is up near the front with the other families of the victims. Her head is bent forward, attention on something in her hands and out of his view. He wonders if it's a picture of her mother, or perhaps something sentimental like a piece of jewelry. It's hard to think about Beckett being sentimental. She doesn't often give in to such emotions, and the few times he's seen her do so are memories he doesn't want to reflect on. They are memories of her in moments of softness, when they were close. When he was close to having everything he ever wanted.

Today's the day when evidence will be presented that is widely believed to be the proverbial final nail in the coffin of the bastard seated at the defense table surrounded by his high-powered lawyers. Rick doesn't look at him, doesn't even want his mind to go there. But there's a nagging little voice inside that persists in asking who he's really here because of— Beckett? Or the man defending himself from, among other things, murdering Beckett's mother?

The gavel bangs, bringing the crowd to hushed silence. The first witness of the day is called.

Partway through the long session, his mind starts to drift. Then his eyes skitter over to her. It's not like this is the first time that he's seen her since… before.

"_I don't understand what you're saying, Esposito." _

"_Castle, when they process evidence sometimes they use the on-file samples of the various beat cops and detectives at the scene to rule us out, and you too, since you're often there. This time… it's not your DNA, but it's a very close match, a family member."_

"_But this case ties into… I mean, the test has to be wrong. There's no way that you think my mother was involved in Johanna Beckett's murder, and Alexis was a toddler when—"_

"_No, Castle. Not a female member of your family."_

_Beckett is across the squad room. She turns for a moment, and the look on her face—_

Castle pushes back the memory, buries it deep before it can do more damage than it did living through it the first time. But despite his best efforts, he can't help glancing over at the defendant's table.

Nail in the coffin, for everything that he's destroyed.

* * *

><p>Castle enters his loft and takes a moment to relish the blissful air conditioning. It's mid-June, and in New York that's often the cool part of the summer, slowly building the heat as it slides into July and August. But not this year. This year, May ended with record temperatures, and the heat seems to be happily settled in and ready to remain indefinitely, like an annoying family member overstaying their welcome.<p>

Speaking of—

"Mother?" he calls out, dropping his keys and cell phone on the kitchen island. "Mother, are you here?" he tries again for good measure, before breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of reply.

It's good, because he really isn't in the mood to deal with her right now. Their relationship has mostly remained the same following the events of last fall—the solving of the case and all the other revelations that went along with it. But now that the trial is happening, there's a strain between Castle and his mother that he really does not want to think about. Certainly not this evening, when he'd like to put everything out of his mind, have a nice scotch, and relax with a good book. It had been a long day of testimony and he wants to forget about that too. The only saving blessing was that Beckett didn't seem to notice he was there as a spectator in the courtroom today.

Kate Beckett.

The name reverberates though him. It's like a rickety, wobbly bridge with its ability to make his legs rubbery and his balance all out of whack.

He shrugs off his sports jacket and drapes it over a chair as he moves further into the apartment. He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls them up, then plops onto the couch. The peaceful quiet lasts all of about a minute before a key turns in the lock.

"Dad, I didn't think you were going to be home."

He turns his head, "Disappointed?" he teases, hopeful that he keeps all trace of relief out of his voice that it's his daughter and not her grandmother coming though the door. He's happy to have Alexis interrupt his quiet anytime. "What are you doing here if you didn't think I'd be around?"

"I need a book, and I can't find it. I thought I left it here."

"Book? As in school book?" She nods while sitting down across from him. He says, "Need I remind you that you are out of school for the summer? And you don't need more learnin' because you are already the smartest, most capable intern of any intern at any law office in the city. No, make that the planet. Wait, possibly of the entire known universe."

"Dad," she keeps her eyes from rolling, but not the sentiment from her tone. "They let me sit in on a conference call today discussing a very interesting case, and I remembered last spring that I had a class where we talked about a similar issue in an Arkansas Supreme Court case. I want to look it up. Maybe I can contribute something."

She's only just finished her junior year in undergrad. But leave it to his daughter to want to keep up with the law school kids she's interning with over the summer. She still isn't sure what aspect of criminal justice she wants to pursue, and this summer experience is going to go a long way in helping her figure it out. Plus, it'll look good on her resume once she does decide. They'd talked about it at length. The only part not discussed was that her internship happened to be at the exact same law firm where Johanna Beckett used to practice.

He wondered if Alexis knew that. He wondered if Beckett had a hand in it? He wasn't ever going to ask.

"What about you?" she adds, pulling him out of his reverie

"What?"

"It's Thursday. Isn't this usually the night that you're at the bar looking over the books or whatever it is that you do there?"

"Usually, but not tonight."

"Everything ok?"

"Fine."

She sighs in that way, that grown up part of her that is wise beyond her years. The part that was increasingly prominent these last few years.

"You could call her, you know."

He has to back pedal for a moment, because there is just no way that his little girl is that smart or intuitive or knew about the complexity of some kinds of relationships. But she does.

"She wouldn't mind," Alexis continues. "I think she'd like to hear from you."

There's also no doubt who they are taking about.

"She would?" he somehow manages to ask, because he's sure Alexis is mistaken. "Did Beckett say that?"

Now Alexis does roll her eyes. "Dad, I left high school a couple of years ago. I refuse to pass notes in study hall or ask her questions on your behalf. You deal with this. I'm just saying, hasn't it been long enough? Don't you think it's time you talked to her about it?

"Didn't you have a book to find or something?" he counters. He's being less mature than she is, but that's nothing new.

"You're going to see her Saturday anyway."

Saturday? Oh, right. Saturday. The thing at Esposito and Lanie's. Turns out that Esposito's mom is a devoted Catholic, so when the kid was born a couple of months ago, the new proud grandma began asking when the baptism was being held. Saturday is the baptism celebration for grandma, and for all the rest of their family and friends it's the non-denominational celebration of "Can you believe we actually had a kid?"

In retrospect, he should have realized that Beckett was planning to be there.

"So," he clears his throat, "want to share a cab on Saturday?"

Alexis gives him a look, and Rick is mildly happy that it appears her annoyed teen years aren't entirely behind her yet. "I'm going upstairs to look for my book. You can order us some dinner. I'm thinking Chinese."

"Moo shoo pork it is." Anything to change the subject.

* * *

><p>Kate doesn't know why she's here. Well, no, that's not entirely true. She's here because she might run into Castle, and wants to, actually. But what she doesn't know is why she wants to see him, or even how she feels about it? After all these months she's suddenly compelled to face him even if he doesn't want to face her, and she's here to demand… what exactly? Yeah, she really has no idea what she's doing here.<p>

At one time, unless it's changed recently, Castle's routine was to come to The Old Haunt on Thursday nights. Sometimes he'd stop by on other nights too, but always on Thursdays. Keeping an eye on the place, he'd say. But here Kate is on a Thursday night, sitting at the bar, sipping a vodka martini, and there's no Castle. At least according to the kid working behind the bar tonight. She considers whether Castle would actually hide in the back and tell his bartender to lie for him. She hopes it hasn't come to that.

"Did he say why he wasn't going to be here tonight?" she asks the kid. He shrugs his shoulders, giving the universal gesture for _"Who knows?" _and moves on down the bar when he's flagged by another customer looking for refills.

Kate stares down into her drink. It was a stupid idea to come here anyway. She'll finish her drink and then go home. Alone. To get up tomorrow and face another day in the courtroom, watching a trial that is meant to bring her justice, to bring relief that it is all finally over. But she only feels numb these days.

She saw Castle today in court, in the back, but knew somehow he thought he was staying out of her sight. Did he have any idea that was worse? That dropping out of her life was one thing; silence she could deal with. But to see him and know he's keeping his careful distance hurts far more. She assumes that he has no idea, because Castle would never, even now, knowingly hurt her. But she is puzzled why he was there. He's made it clear that he doesn't want to, or can't, face her. So she assumes it's for another reason, and that's when the thought stabs her. He's there for… the defendant.

She picks up her glass and knocks back what remains of her drink. As she starts to stand up, a man puts a hand on her arm and she says, "Castle?" before she looks up. But it's a stranger's face.

"Hi, I'm Steve, and I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?"

"No, thanks." She can't shake the fact that she was so hopeful there for a moment, longing for it to be him. "I was just leaving."

"That's a shame. I really would've liked to get to know you a little." Steve looks like a nice man, and her lack of any interest in a good-looking man like Steve should be a concern. She's a walking commercial for the pharmaceutical industry: _"Do you wind yourself up? Do you have a lack of interest in…?" _But if anyone deserved to be not completely OK right now, well, she sort of wears it like a badge where the real one used to be.

"I've got an early morning tomorrow at work." It is a lie; she's on disability leave through the remainder of the trial, and if there is one, though the sentencing hearing as well. If there's not a sentencing hearing, she's not sure what she'll do.

"I understand." He smiles at her and she tries to return it.

"Maybe some other time," she says, taking her purse and heading toward the door.

Yep, it should say something to her. She has spent her evening in a bar waiting for a man that doesn't want anything to do with her, and she doesn't have any interest in the available men. Kate Beckett's life is going just great these days, thanks for asking.

* * *

><p>As it ends up, Alexis is busy Saturday morning helping a friend with some minor emergency, which Castle assumes to mean someone broke up with someone else and his daughter is needed to console. It also means Alexis cancels at the last minute, and it leaves him attending the non-baptism on his own. Lanie answers the door; Castle gives her a kiss on the cheek in greeting.<p>

"How's mama doing?" he asks. She's only recently started back at work after her maternity leave.

"Mama is doing just fine. It's daddy that's in trouble."

"As it should be."

Lanie smirks, "A flag football game turned into a tackle game, and my nieces and nephews are winning. You best go out back and help him."

"Alexis is sorry that she couldn't make it, but she got something from us," he hands over a package. "She also told me to take lots of pictures with my phone and send them to her later."

"I'll be sure to call and thank her." With that, Lanie shoos him out the back.

Sure enough, there's a pile of various kids on top of Esposito in the yard. Ryan is standing next to them, doing nothing to help. One of the kids suddenly pops up and goes running off with the ball and all the others go running after him. Castle reaches down to give the now abandoned Esposito a hand in getting up.

"That is not how you play football," he says, wiping grass off his pants. Ryan is trying not to laugh. "I'm telling you," Esposito drops his voice quieter and looks around to see if any of the rest of Lanie's family can hear them, "those kids are a nightmare. They're pint-sized devils."

"Yeah, sure," Ryan replies, while giving Castle a knowing look. "We believe you."

"They're evil." Then Esposito changes the subject, "How's it going, Castle."

"Yeah, man," Ryan offers a handshake. "Good to see you. It's been a while."

"You both should come over for poker sometime soon."

Ryan glances over at Esposito. "I don't know, think you can get away for a night from the old ball and chain… and now another ball."

"Oh, like you're any different," Esposito throws back.

Castle is trying to be subtle about it, he's using their back and forth as cover so he can get a good look around. He doesn't see Beckett, but that doesn't mean that she's not here already. It's a big crowd; some are sitting in the shade under the tree, some manning the grill and helping themselves to beer in the cooler. The kids have made another play in their version of the football game, which is mostly about running around and screaming. But as far as he can see, no tall brunette, and it bothers him that he breaths a little easier.

This is the woman Castle once believed he could never get enough of seeing. He thought perhaps, if he played his cards right, maybe one day he'd convince her to be more than just friends. Now he isn't even sure how to handle a casual conversation with her at a backyard barbeque.

He needs a moment, so he makes some excuse and slips away from the guys, making his way back inside. The living room is empty and he stands in the middle of it for a minute. He needs to pull it together, to put the proper mask on before she arrives. He's determined to make it easy on her, if that's even remotely possible. How can she look at him and not be reminded of the worst thing that's ever happened to her?

"Castle?"

It feels like the bottom drops out of his stomach. He spins around and she's there, standing in the entry to the room with a gift-wrapped box.

"Beckett."

God, this is harder than he thought it was going to be. His eyes want to sweep over her, take in every detail like a soldier going off to war knowing that it's going to be a long and terrible time before he gets to see this again, if ever. He wants to do something, say something, but instead he finds himself stock-still.

"It's good to see you," she finally says. Her hands are fidgeting with the bow on the top of the gift. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," he responds, the automatic answer coming out before he'd realized he'd spoken. "And you?" He regrets it immediately. How do you think she is, Rick? She's dealing with… He mentally slaps himself. "Sorry, I mean…"

"It's OK, Castle."

Are those tears starting? 45 seconds in his presence is enough to make her cry? It's all wrong, and it breaks him up inside because he wants to be the one to make it better, not worse.

"I saw you," she sounds strong, but he knows she's covering. "In court the other day."

"You did?" He'd tried so hard to keep out of sight. "Sorry, I just—"

"Quit apologizing Castle, I get it."

"You do?" Because even he didn't fully understand.

She glances down and then back up, meeting his eyes again. As if she decided that she's not going to hide from this, she'll pull herself up and face it straight on. "Of course you want to be there. You can't help the fact that he's your…"

Father.

She doesn't say it, but it hangs there in the room. If it were real and tangible, Castle is sure that it would be a gulch widening ever further between them.

"That's not why, Kate." He needs her to know this, needs her to understand that he never, ever wanted it all to end up like this. "I don't even know him."

But she surprises him; instead of running from the room she crosses it. "I know this isn't easy on you either."

He's not sure how to handle being this close to her. The temptation to touch her is overwhelming after the long drought, but he knows he can't.

"Kate, I was wondering… Oh." Lanie stops short at the sight of them. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's OK," Beckett turns. "I was just leaving. I only came to drop off a gift. I have… I have a thing today that I can't miss."

Lanie nods, as if she already knew this information, so Castle assumes the last bit was for his benefit. It's almost like Beckett doesn't want him to think it's his fault that she's leaving, like she wishes that she wasn't. He's not entirely clear on what just happened here.

Lanie gives them both the once over and walks with Beckett toward the front door. It's that knowing look on Lanie's face that lingers with Castle the remainder of the day. It tells him that for being a famous mystery novelist, he's missing something, and it troubles him. He thought he already knew how his story with Beckett ended, but perhaps he was wrong?

Once the trial is over, he promises himself, he'll re-evaluate, maybe even give her a call at the risk of whatever fallout might result. Cautious optimism, he decides, that's what he is going to go with.

(TBC)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

The case goes to the jury on a Tuesday. By Wednesday morning at 10 AM, Kate is officially losing it. She peeks out between the blinds and surveys the reporters camped out near the entrance to her building. It varies; some days, she only sees a couple out there, while other days, it's a complete circus. There are many "human interest" sides of this news story. Many families have been hurt and have compelling stories to tell; fellow socialites were duped, never knowing that the philanthropist, successful businessman, and family man who walked among them was a criminal mastermind.

Despite that, Kate remains one of the juicier parts of the story, and she understands that but hates it. She sees Bob Lincoln out there among them in his beat-up blue sedan. He used to be a cop before turning crime reporter, and it's when she sees him that she reminds herself that they're out there doing their job, nothing more or less. The attention will go away eventually, even if it's a nuisance in the meantime.

She tries to watch a movie but loses interest. She makes lunch but three bites in, her stomach turns, and she dumps the rest in the trash. She's about to take a walk but remembers the reporters outside and decides that she doesn't have enough fight in her today to deal with them, and God forbid a couple of them follow her. She half considers putting on an exercise video but dismisses that idea as well.

Kate picks up her cell phone and scrolls through her contacts. There were long stretches of times over the years when Castle was always at the very top of her most recent call/receive list, and then there were times like this, where it had been so long since they'd talked that he was hidden. His number buried in her phone only serving as a symbol of the state of their relationship. They've stopped talking in the past, taking a break from each other for one reason or another. Some of them unhappy memories, but others are mundane, like when he really needed to buckle down and get some writing done. But each time, even in those dark moments, she felt sure that the separation was not permanent. This time, she's not so sure.

She scrolls until she sees his name, and she's about to push the button to place the call when she pauses to consider what she would even say to him? How would he react? Would he even answer?

It feels the same as being three bites into a lunch you don't feel like eating. She drops the phone on the coffee table, picking up the newspaper instead. It's best, maybe, to leave it in the trash and move on.

* * *

><p>The jury foreman stands up and the judge is going through final instructions. He tells the defendant to stand.<p>

Kate's thinking about that Christmas, the one that turned out to be her mother's last, and the popcorn balls they attempted to make that resulted in nothing but a terrible, sticky mess. Her father came home early from work on Christmas Eve and teased them both that they couldn't even handle the popcorn balls without him. They all laughed. They played scrabble. They opened gifts. They had no idea what the New Year would bring; it was only a couple of weeks later that everything changed.

The jury foreman hands a sheet of paper to the bailiff, who in turn hands it to the judge. During the moment before he begins to read it aloud, it's as if all the years she's spent stuck in the amber of her past are encapsulated in that dragging silence.

"On the first count of murder in the first degree, we the jury find the defendant guilty."

An immediate reaction ripples through the crowd, and Kate feels her hands start to shake. It keeps going, "Guilty." And another, "Guilty." On the conspiracy charges, "Guilty." The charge that basically stems from the entire cover-up and Roy Montgomery's death, "Guilty." Even on the lesser charges of tax evasion, making false statements, and fraud, "Guilty."

Kate has to sit down. The expensive lawyers didn't matter. The manipulation of the facts didn't matter. Justice won. And there's one thing that keeps echoing over and over in her mind.

_It's over._

She's overwhelmed by it, doesn't even know how she's supposed to feel, but she knows she has to get out. It will begin sinking in, and she doesn't want to fall apart here, so she stands, legs shaky, and fights her way through the crowd. People are rejoicing and hugging, and some are in tears, and the press seem to be everywhere.

She needs to get out.

She makes it to the corridor exterior to the courtroom, but here the crowds seem even larger and infinitely louder. Microphones are shoved in her face, cameras and reporters wanting to know her response, trying to capture all her emotions for the nation to see, but she can't. She won't let them have this. She spots the doors ahead between the obstacle of bodies, but there are too many.

Out.

She feels her legs giving way on her. The need for a good crying jag starts to build up as those words: "Guilty, guilty, guilty" keep repeating in her head. It's over and he's _guilty_.

"Detective Beckett, tells us…"

"No comment," she manages to say, but they keep closing in and she doesn't have the strength to push through them.

"What are you feeling about this verdict, Detective Beckett, and do you support him getting a reduced sentence because he is taking care of his ailing wife?"

They're everywhere around her. "Detective Beckett, do you expect an appeal by the defense?"

"I don't know…" She feels like she's been pushed off a cliff, like she is free falling.

"Detective Beckett, what would you say to –?"

"The lady said she has no comment," a familiar voice states. Suddenly, Castle's arm is around her, catching her from falling further. "Move aside," he barks to the reporters.

Castle tucks her tight against him. She holds on, and with the other arm he pushes back against the onslaught of the crowd. They get through the courthouse and out onto the sidewalk. Outside they encounter even more media, curious bystanders, and even a couple of protestors. Kate keeps her grip on Castle's lapel, her head turned into his shoulder, trusting him to guide her. Wherever he's taking her, she really doesn't care. A couple of blocks down, with only a few extremely ambitious cub reporters still following them, Castle lets up a little on the hold he has on her.

"You OK?"

"Yeah." She just breathes for a moment. "Can we get out of here?"

"My car is parked right there." He points ahead a few hundred feet. He helps her into the passenger side and gets in behind the wheel. There's a camera or two still pointed at them outside the car windows, and a dark sedan pulls up alongside that she's afraid might be more press ready to follow them all the way to Canada if necessary.

He navigates traffic as well as any New York City cab driver. A couple of times he glances over at her to check for something. She's not sure what. She must look like the mess that she feels because he begins to babble at her.

"I was in the back with Esposito, and we saw you… we thought you had fainted." Castle did a good job of hiding today, because she hadn't spotted him. "When you stood back up, I was… God, Beckett. We were trying to get to you. Lanie's with your dad – they got out the back. We couldn't get to you, the crowd was nuts. We kept trying to get to you."

Rambling on and on, just like when she would get shot or something. It's how she knows he is well and truly panicked.

"What can I do?" he finishes.

She turns to look at him, and all of a sudden it's as if the last 7 or 8 months never happened. He's her partner, he's at her side, and they'll figure it out together like they always do. How much she's missed this; it stabs though her. The tears start then, but not for the reasons she expected on this day.

"I don't care where, Castle, just take me far away from here."

* * *

><p>She feels a nudge and comes awake slowly. Her body is achy and stiff like she has a cold or has been on a long stakeout. She looks out the car windows, and the orange-red light filtering through the trees tells her the sun's almost gone down.<p>

"Hey," Castle says.

She must have fallen asleep while he was driving. "Where are we?" she asks as he pulls up to a cottage with a wide front porch and white clapboard siding. There are little red flowers planted along the path from the driveway to the front door.

"The Hamptons," he says, putting the car into park. "It was the only thing I could think of on short notice."

She follows him inside the house, and he flicks a switch, causing a couple of table lamps to light up in the fading dusk. The layout is simple, a large great room with open kitchen. At the right is a small office that she can see through an open door; she's not surprised to learn that Castle's impressive collection of books isn't limited to his place in the city. It's everything she'd expect of Castle, warm and inviting with a big stone fireplace, contrasted with a gigantic flat screen on one wall that is hooked up to some kind of gaming system. And are those storm trooper action figures on the bookshelf and laser tag equipment in the corner? Yes, definitely Castle's house.

He clears his throat. "Hope you like it?"

"It's great." He seems to get that she means it.

Castle takes a few steps further into the room, "There's books and a decent Blu-ray movie collection," sweeping his hands this way and that, as he points out amenities. "And of course the beach is right out the back. It's a perfect place to relax. You're welcome to use this as your hidey-hole until you're ready. For as long as you want."

She appreciates it, really, but there's something in his wording that makes her afraid that he intends to turn around and drive back to the city, leaving her here alone. She knows she sounds desperate but she's past thinking before saying "With you?" Her unfiltered honesty is something she used to be careful with around him.

He ducks his head. "Sure, if that's what you want."

She's playing on his sympathies, and she should probably feel awful about it. But she already feels a sense of relief being here, and a selfish part of her doesn't care about the implications. She'll take it.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Kate wakes to the sound of a bird that must be perched outside on a tree branch near the open bedroom window. The little songbird is calling out to her mate, Kate guesses, letting him know that she's found a perfectly good spot to settle down and raise a family. Or perhaps he's a poor provider? She's yelling at him to get his butt off the couch and get a job. She would have been much better off if she'd never even met the bastard.

That last thought spoils the Walt Disney thing she had going there for a moment. She rubs her eyes and sits up in bed. She's wearing a borrowed pair of silk pajamas. Kate has decided she's going to give in and believe Castle's story about these pajamas— that they belong to his mother, who leaves them up here in one of the guest rooms. Kate is not going to allow her mind go to the first place that it did last night when Castle offered them up, thinking maybe they're a discarded leftover from some romantic liaison he once brought here for the weekend. It would be way too weird to think that she's wearing pajamas that he'd once seduced off another woman.

She gets up and heads for the attached bathroom, where she finds a couple of clean towels folded on the counter next to the sink, along with a toothbrush still in its store packaging, toothpaste, and a bar of soap. Castle must have set them in here last night, but she hadn't noticed. She's about to turn on the shower and welcome the relief that the hot water will provide after the restless night spent tossing and tortured by twisted dreams, but then she remembers that she doesn't have a change of clothes.

She really should have thought this through before jumping into Castle's car yesterday and doing something spontaneous and possibly stupid. Because she has no idea where to go from here, and that applies to more than just her lack of clean clothes.

She brushes her teeth and splashes some water on her face before venturing down to the kitchen. Castle is there sitting on a stool at the island, sipping coffee and tapping away at his iPhone.

"Morning," she says, brushing back hair from her eyes. Her voice sounds groggy, so she clears her throat.

"Sleep OK?" he asks, setting down his phone. "There's coffee and I have some eggs, but I was waiting for you to get up before scrambling them."

She moves to the coffee pot, shaking her head, "No thanks." There's no way that she can eat. Her stomach spends too much time in knots lately, but especially yesterday, and it's been havoc on her appetite. "I'm not hungry."

"But you—" Castle doesn't go any further.

She's not sure what he was about to say, but it's clear that he feels the need to carefully edit his responses to her. There was a time when she would have been grateful for that, but now she suddenly gets it. All those years, all that time that he would not shut up, she believed he couldn't for the life of him keep a thought in his head instead of letting them all tumble out before thinking them through. But that was special. That was because they were close, because he trusted her and cared about her, and had no fear of letting her see all of him.

She turns away from him, looking out the window, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Neither of them know how to be around each other now, and it's a sad state.

"There's, um," he starts, and she hears the rustle of him gathering up the paper that is scattered across the counter in front of him. "I called Lanie, and she went over to your place last night and packed up some things in a bag. I had it messengered here and it's by the front door – I'll go get it for you.

"Thanks." She turns back slowly, not expecting this.

"It's no problem," he says. "I can carry it up the stairs for you."

"No, not for that. I mean, yes, thank you for that." For a moment, the trying tension between them ebbs a little. "Thank you, for all of this."

"You don't have to thank me. But you're welcome anyway."

She sips more coffee in the kitchen while listening to him move about the house doing little chores—putting her suitcase upstairs, offering her the newspaper, answering a call from Alexis, and Kate takes a deep breath. It's the first time in a long time that she's breathed that deeply and easily.

* * *

><p>Rick keeps watching her out of the corner of his eye, stealing glances when he knows Beckett is distracted with something. She's too thin, there are lines around her eyes that didn't used to be there, and she's… not quite right.<p>

Kate Beckett would never fall apart completely, no way. But it's like there are tiny chiseled pieces falling away and she's using quickset glue and theater to keep up the façade. She's probably been fooling a lot of people, but not him. Rick has seen her like this once or twice before, and he knows how bad it can get before it gets better. But he's unsure of his place here, now.

It used to be that he'd bring her take-out, pull on her metaphorical pigtails until she smiled, or get equally as caught up in a case with her so the rest of the world would melt away. He knows her default setting. He knows how to reset it. But he can't imagine that she wants him to push the button this time. He's not sure that he has that right anymore.

This whole "take me away from here, Castle" request has completely thrown him. He wants to be her knight in shining armor, always did. But Beckett never needed one before, and if by some chance she needs one now, he can't imagine why she'd pick him. He thought that they were hardly on speaking terms. He thought he'd lost one of his most trusted friends. Or lost whatever the hell they were to each other.

It was understandable, given the reasons why, but it still hurt. It hasn't been easy on him either, not that Kate seemed to notice. Being here with her, involved in this weird mix of old and new patterns of behavior, it was all very… confusing. Damn confusing.

In the last couple of minutes thunder's begun to rumble in the distance and the wind has picked up. Beckett stands on the back porch watching the horizon. He's cleaning up the kitchen but using it as an excuse to observe her.

He twists off the faucet and vacillates for a moment. Should he join her? Or maybe she wants to be alone? Should he not care what she wants? Should he push for her to explain what the heck is going on? Maybe give her space? Then he mentally smacks himself. All this internal back and forth he's been doing isn't going to solve anything.

* * *

><p>"Hey," he says, and drapes the throw blanket that he brought out with him across her shoulders.<p>

"Thanks," she replies, pulling it tighter around her. The first few drops fall on the deck beyond the porch's overhang.

"When I was little, my mother and I would come out here and watch summer storms roll in off the ocean. It can get chilly though."

"Is this the same place?"

"Yeah, more or less. After my first couple of books were successful, I put some money into expanding and refurbishing the house."

The skies open up and it begins to pour, and Beckett stands there looking so small and so battered by the world that Rick's heart squeezes. He doesn't want to see her like this. He once had the power to shake her, to get her out of such a… He couldn't, could he?

Castle stops himself from further debate; it hadn't been working out lately anyway. So it's time to take a spontaneous thought and run with it, consequences be damned.

"Come on," he grabs her hand.

"Castle, what are you—?"

The blanket slips from her shoulders and as he drags her out into the rain and begins dancing, moving, jumping around.

"Are you on drugs or something?" Her voice is barely audible above a thunderclap. "Castle, this is nuts."

He grabs her around the waist and twirls them both. "Haven't you ever danced in the rain, Detective Beckett?"

He starts to dance on his own. He is sure he's lost his mind, because he lets go off all reason and does the whitest white man dance in the rain that he's sure Esposito would've laughed at for days. It was almost as if he were right there— but no, Rick realizes, that laughter is coming from Beckett.

He takes her hand and spins her again. This time she starts dancing with him, silly and frenzied at first, until they slow down a little, then a little more. The rain is coming down in sheets now, and they're both completely soaked. She's swaying in his arms, her nose is bumping his.

"I've missed this," she says.

"Me too."

She holds on to him, tighter than any mere hug. This feels more like finding an anchor in a storm than anything he's ever shared with her before.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next 36 hours Kate does a lot of sleeping. Castle's right about one thing – this cottage on the water could possibly be the most relaxing place on Earth. Or maybe it's just that her body has finally hit a wall. It is done with restless nights and decides to change course and make up for these last months in a matter of days.

She falls asleep in one of the Adirondack chairs on the back porch in the afternoon. She eats soup and a grilled cheese sandwich and manages to keep that down. She picks out a paperback from his bookshelf and spends long hours on the couch or out on the beach reading the international spy crime story without bothering to work out who might be the guilty character ahead of the novel's climax. She soaks in the bathtub more than she needs to. It feels like she's recovering from a long illness.

The one thing that she's not doing is thinking about her mom, for the most part. She's certainly not spending time mulling over the trial or anything related. It seems like a betrayal, like mourning her mom all over again is the only appropriate way to mark the occasion of finally receiving justice for her murder, but as the days pass it's harder to imagine that her mother would want her to continue grieving. With clear blue skies, sand between her toes, and glorious sunrises over the ocean, it's easier than it should be to settle.

Kate is, however, spending a lot of time thinking about Castle, and it's particularly weird doing so when the starring role of her thoughts is invariably only a few feet away. They haven't addressed the other night in the rain, not directly at least, but it has altered something. When she goes into the office to pull another paperback from the shelf, having finished the first, Castle looks up from his computer where he's been staring at the screen for the last hour. She's noticed that he's not doing much writing but hasn't said anything about it.

"Are you going to read that guy's entire series?" he asks. "Right there in front of me? You do realize that he's never won a single Edgar."

"Jealous much?"

"Is that sass?"

She smiles, he does too. It feels like the illness might finally be over.

"Did Lanie pack you a skirt or something nice?" he asks, and the interlude they were having shifts.

"What?"

"I meant," he sits up straighter. "I mean, do you have something you might wear for Sunday dinner at grandma's house?"

"I have a sundress." Dare she ask— "Why?"

"We're going out for dinner tonight."

* * *

><p>They walk down the beach, Beckett carrying her shoes in her hand, for about a quarter of a mile. It's a breezy sort of night, and Rick's glad that she seems relaxed, though she's a bit anxious about the surprise he's got in store. As they approach the Glendale's house, he puts a hand on Beckett's back to guide her.<p>

"This way," he says. Her eyes widen with surprise. He has no idea what Beckett was expecting, but going to a neighbor's place for dinner wasn't it.

Mr. Glendale is waiting for them and greets them warmly. Once inside, Mrs. Glendale appears. "Rick!" She pulls him into a fierce hug. "It's been too long."

"I know, I know."

Mr. Glendale elbows Beckett. "She'd say that even if he was here last week. No matter how short or how long, it's always been too long according to that woman."

But in this case, Mrs. Glendale does have a point. It's been at least a year since Rick has visited them, and he usually doesn't let it go that long. It's an odd balance; part of him would like very much never to come back here again, to forget a lot of the early memories he has of this house and these people. His other half can't help but be drawn here, and he wonders if that's exactly how Beckett feels about the alley where her mom was killed.

Mrs. Glendale finally lets up on hugging Rick and admonishes her husband, "Have you offered them a drink yet, Gary?"

"Was just about to."

"Good," she replies, turning to Beckett and pulling her into a hug as well. Kate obviously didn't expect this show of affection from a perfect stranger, but she gives in while shooting Castle an inquisitive look. "Welcome to our home, dear. You must be Kate?"

"Thank you for having me."

"You sit down," Mrs. Glendale releases Beckett. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll only be a few minutes finishing up dinner. I hope you like beef, Kate?"

She replies, "I do."

"Oh fantastic." Mr. Glendale hands Castle a scotch on the rocks. "I like a girl who eats meat." Rick coughs back a laugh. He's pulling Beckett's leg and she has no idea.

Rick sits down with Mr. Glendale on the couch, but Beckett casually makes her way over to the mantle. The men begin debating the Mets' pitching situation while Beckett peruses the photos displayed. It's general interest, Rick knows; she's not in full investigator mode, but it is something she likes to do when getting a feel for a person of interest they're questioning in a case. Seeing what they have on display in their homes; pictures, artwork, trinkets, it all adds up to more than hints. Rick knows she's curious, and it's understandable given he's introduced her to people without any explanation ahead of time.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he's nodding his head to whatever Mr. Glendale is saying, Rick sees Beckett's back stiffen a little, and he knows she's found it. It was only a matter of time. The Glendales have family portraits lining the mantle dating back to when their oldest was first born, with one for each subsequent child added. More recent pictures show their kids all grown with spouses and kids of their own.

Rick shouldn't be surprised that fifteen minutes in, she's already caught the thread of a mystery. There's a portrait up there, Rick's sure without looking, that includes a young boy of about 5 or 6 years old. But in the next portrait over, the boy is not there, and he's never in another one again. Knots form in Rick's stomach and he downs his scotch.

"Can I get you another, Mr. Glendale, as I help myself to a refill?"

"Sure, boy, go right ahead. You know that you don't need to bother asking. As I was saying, I think if they make a trade and acquire a utility infielder…"

Rick finishes refilling his glass as Beckett glances his way across the room. If she was curious before, she's well and truly thrown now and has even more questions, but she's trying to respectfully not ask—via their special telepathy— if he doesn't want her to pose them. He closes the few steps to her side, with an extra scotch in hand even though he knows she's not a big fan of the stuff.

"Don't bring it up if they don't," he whispers, hidden behind the act of handing her the drink. "I'll explain later."

* * *

><p>"…And then Rick tries to blame the dog!" Mr. Glendale finishes, and they all laugh. It's clear to Kate throughout the dinner conversation that this couple has known Castle since he was very young, and that they're comfortable enough to tell embarrassing stories about his youth, so they are close. She's resisting the urge to dig for the juicy stuff and is altogether enjoying herself.<p>

"In my defense," Castle starts.

"Oh, here we go," Mr. Glendale says, already beginning to laugh.

Mrs. Glendale turns to Kate, "Perhaps we should leave it to them to duke this out. Would you mind, dear, giving me a hand in the kitchen?"

"Not at all," Kate smiles.

It's a kitchen that mixes state-of-the art appliances with a lived-in feel; it's clearly used for a family to gather and not for show at dinner parties, despite the money they must have. Kate admits to herself she's a little relieved, because this is the Hamptons, after all. It would have been easy for her to feel out of place, but not here. This place, this kitchen, though easily three times as big as the one in her own childhood home, still has a kind of character to which she can relate. She likes Mrs. Glendale all the more when she fills the sink and begins to wash dishes by hand, despite the two-drawer, high-efficiency digital dishwasher on the far right.

Kate grabs a towel neatly folded on the countertop and takes the first clean dish to dry. "Is this the time when you tell me that I'm not at all like any of the other girls that Rick has brought home before?"

Mrs. Glendale giggles. It surprises Kate and gives her a glimpse of what she must have been like as a high school girl, not a grandma.

"I can't really say," Mrs. Glendale admits. "We only ever met his two wives. The first time he got married because she got pregnant, and Rick is the sort of man who takes that responsibility seriously. His second wife, well, I never really understood what that was about."

Kate feels compelled to say, "We're just friends."

"Why do people say it like that? 'Just friends' as if that's not at all important?"

"What I meant is that we're not—"

"I know what you meant, dear. It's just that the best marriages are always built first and foremost on friendship. It's a nice bonus if you like seeing each other naked." They've found a rhythm; wash, hand over, dry, set into the rack. It settles Kate, despite the topic that might otherwise be uncomfortable for her. She's never one to talk about how she feels to those she knows well, let alone strangers. Especially about Castle.

Mrs. Glendale adds, "Why belittle it by saying 'just friends'? I say, that's a pretty good start."

She's right, of course. Kate dries the last fork and sets it aside. "It might have been the start of something once," Kate agrees. But that sad achy feeling that's been dashed away by sun and surf these last couple of days rears itself again. "I'm not so sure anymore. It's complicated now."

"Nonsense! Rick's not complicated. No man is ever as complicated as we women make them out to be."

* * *

><p>It's late when they say goodnight and leave the Glendales, but lights from the various houses make the beach navigable enough. Rick knows that she's full of questions, but Beckett doesn't say anything when he begins walking the opposite direction from his house. They meander along the beach until they come to a small area of rocks. He climbs up and sits down on one, facing the ocean, and Beckett joins him.<p>

"They've been neighbors of ours since as long as I can remember," he starts.

"I figured as much." To him, she sounds like she's humoring him but on the inside she's saying, "Castle, I am a detective, remember?"

"They had six children and the youngest was right around my age. His name was Jason, and we used to play together. One day, I'm out on the beach, and I see something that I think is a turtle or animal that has washed up."

"It was him. He was dead." Kate sucks in a breath. "You told me this story once, but you said that you made it up."

"I think I may have changed a few of the details, so technically…" He's trying to hold it together. "He was right here against these rocks, and there was blood everywhere. I had to run and tell them." The memories of that day are still vivid all these years later. The anguish of watching a mother collapse into tears over the body of her dead son still overwhelms him when he reflects.

"I'm so sorry, Castle."

"It was a long time ago. But I'm sure over the years they followed my life and thought— this is where Jason would be right now. He'd be going off to college, or he would be getting married, or... It's hard sometimes, being that measuring stick for what they have lost."

"Did the investigators ever figure out what happened?" Kate asks carefully.

"Jason was murdered, but they never found out who or why." They're both quiet for a moment, then he asks, "Does it help? When you know?"

"Yes."

He reaches over and takes her hand. He can't look at her, but he needs this contact. She welcomes it, squeezes his hand back in support.

"But the thing is," Beckett continues, "it doesn't help as much as you always thought that it would. In some ways, I wish…"

"What?"

"Sometimes I wish that we never figured it out." She closes her eyes, but other than that he can't see the rest of her expression in the dim light. "If it meant losing you, Castle, I would have gladly chosen never knowing."

He can't believe she's actually saying this. She was the one that pushed him away, a classic Beckett move when she's at her most vulnerable. Then again, he did let her get away with it; he didn't exactly badger her, like he had at times in the past. She didn't call, but he didn't call her either.

He assumed that she couldn't deal with his own biological father being the murderer, but Castle didn't exactly want to face her or the guilt, so he picked the easy way out — avoidance. Just like she always does. Could it be that they've both spent all this time thinking that it was the other person who wanted space, being slightly relieved to have it themselves? While in fact, both were waiting for an invitation.

He puts an arm around Beckett, and her head finds his shoulder. "You never lost me," he says. "We got off track there for a bit, but you never lost me."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Castle is in the shower when the phone rings, so Kate answers.<p>

"How're you doing, Beckett?" It's Esposito.

"I'm good."

"Castle treating you well?" It's an innocent enough question, but there's something there below the obvious. She doesn't want to examine it too closely, because she has a different relationship with each of the men in her life, and they have a bond between them as well. Most of the time it's fine, but it can go sour when it's shaken not stirred together in the right way. She suddenly has a desire for a dry martini.

"He's fine, but he happens to be in the shower at the moment," she says into the phone. "Is there something specific that you wanted?"

"Nah, just wanted to propose a trade in our fantasy league. He can call me back whenever."

They exchange some news and she's about to hang up when a thought nags at her. "Hey, Espo."

"Yeah?"

She twists the phone cord around her fingers, considering for a moment whether to go through with what she's about to say. It's only a stupid question, so why not? "Does Ryan still have that relative — an uncle or cousin or whoever — working as a local detective out this way? Or do you know if he retired?"

"Is everything OK?"

"Fine," she says, regretting the uneasiness in his voice. She's put her friends and colleagues through enough this past year.

"You're thinking of that guy we had help us out with some surveillance a couple of years ago?" Esposito pauses for a moment, "I think it was one of Ryan's uncles."

"That's the one." Kate lets go of the phone cord. "Can you have Ryan give me a call if his uncle is still working for the county? Or even if he has retired. I just need a phone number."

"Will do, Beckett."


	5. Chapter 5

The following afternoon, Castle's gone out to run a few errands and pick up groceries. Kate stayed behind, and she's spent the last 15 minutes sitting at Castle's desk in the study staring at his laptop and debating with herself. Even out loud at times, and that's got to be a sign that she should call her therapist, if nothing else.

"Castle never said not to..."

She remembers this situation reversed, when she specifically asked Castle to leave her mother's murder case alone and he went behind her back and looked into it anyway. She was so angry at the time and in retrospect, where did solving it get them? A murderer was behind bars, no doubt a victory, but it was hard to consider what the cost had been.

Kate takes a deep breath; it can't hurt to read up about it, right? She opens the laptop and watches it come to life. She double-clicks to open the Internet browser. In the search field she begins to type the name of a local newspaper, figuring that she might find some old articles about the murder in the online archives, or anything more recent that would tell her if they've re-opened a cold case investigation. After typing a couple of letters, a drop down menu appears, it seems that Castle has it set so that recent search terms come up automatically. She halts when she sees them.

_How to help a loved one through grief_

_Give her space or keep trying?_

_When to reach out_

It's like old clay pipes burst inside, and she's flooded with unexpected emotion. Her heart aches for him, for herself, but getting a breath right now is about all she can manage. It explains so much, the mixed signals she's been getting from Castle for months. The fact that he didn't call but when they'd run into each other, he looked as if he wanted to hold on to her and never let go. Castle had no idea what do to.

It wasn't like him at all; he's usually filled with such confidence. That's why it confused her, why she couldn't read him. She closes the laptop and drops her head in her hands. All this time, she'd believed that he needed his space to come to terms with the fact that the father he'd never known was a murderer and a liar. And while that was likely part of it, the bigger issue was that he simply didn't know. He was at a loss for what to do and couldn't figure out what she wanted.

She didn't help either, not leaving him any breadcrumbs. She doesn't let people in easily, and sometimes even if she lets them in, she still holds back part of herself in a safety measure. But God, she never wanted this, not when it came to him. Their relationship has been defined by events that pulled them apart but somehow the two of them found a way back to each other, over and over. Sometimes painful, but making them stronger. She never meant to….

Kate hears a door slam. She wipes away the couple of tears that escaped down her cheeks and stands up.

This ends now.

* * *

><p>Rick is in the kitchen dropping bags of groceries on the countertop when he hears Beckett enter behind him. He begins to say, "They didn't have strawberry yogurt so I got mixed berry and..."<p>

She hugs him, first from behind, but then he turns to face her, wrapping his arms around her as she buries her head against his neck. From the fast glance before she hides, he can tell she's worked up. "Hey," he says, "what's all this about?"

"I was, um." She takes a shaky breath. "I had a moment, but it passed now."

"OK." He rubs her back in circles, hoping it soothes her. It seems to, and she relaxes in his arms. He relishes it for a moment. She's been touching him more, and letting him touch her, and it's a simple thing but for him it's like waking up to a miracle.

She pulls back slightly, moving her fingers to his chest where she fiddles with one of the buttons on his shirt. "I wanted to say… that I think we should talk."

Beckett takes a deep breath and it appears to settle her. She's about to say more when the phone rings.

"Hold that thought," he says.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure this is OK?" Castle asks while they are setting the table.<p>

"It's more than OK, it's great." Kate hopes that she sounds genuinely upbeat. Inside she's cursing karma, Murphy, and whatever deities might be remotely responsible. The instant she decides to be more demonstrative toward him, to finally let him know exactly how she feels and what he's always meant to her, that's when fate steps in and laughs in the face of her plans.

It's not anybody's fault, Kate keeps reminding herself. Kate adores Alexis and in any other circumstance would enjoy spending time with her. It's just bad timing that Alexis happens to call to say she's joining them for the weekend right as Kate decides to sit her father down on the couch and have a long make-out session with him. Yeah, really bad timing.

Oh, and by the way, Alexis adds that she's bringing along a new boyfriend that she wants to introduce to her dad. Kate mentally groans. So that make-out session is on hold indefinitely. There's going to be a lot of weirdness between big Castle and little Castle. Plus, mix in a poor young guy who is likely to be terrified of meeting Alexis' dad for the first time — it's going to be an interesting weekend, that's guaranteed. But not at all in the way that Kate hoped.

Car doors slam, and voices signal their guests' arrival. Castle looks up at Kate, a mild case of panic in his expression. It's not like this is the first boyfriend Alexis has ever brought home, but maybe now it's different? Now she's at an age that — God forbid — a guy she's dating could end up being the one she decides to marry someday.

"Could you, ah…" he gestures. She's holding a bundle of silverware in one hand and a stack of napkins in the other.

"I'll finish here. You go get the door."

"Thanks, Beckett." He turns, but says over his shoulder, "You look great, by the way."

In between the busy preparations after Alexis called from the road already on the way — and Kate suspects that was carefully planned and played out on Alexis' part — Kate took a quick shower and changed. She'd been wearing mostly t-shirts and shorts around the house since they got here, her hair up in a loose ponytail. But in honor of the occasion, she put on a pair of khakis and a silk blouse.

"I mean…" Castle stalls out. "You always look nice, but I mean—"

"I get it, Castle." She really did; he appreciates the gesture for what it is. "Now go," she says.

A couple of minutes later, they're all having a Norman Rockwell moment in the living room. "Daniel, this is my dad," Alexis introduces him nervously, "and this is Kate Beckett, my dad's partner."

"Hi, Daniel," Castle shakes his hand.

Kate smiles and greets them both but it's Alexis that she can't seem to pull her attention away from. Maybe it's because it has been so long that hearing herself and Castle described as partners once again is significant. Or maybe it's because of the way Alexis said "partner" didn't exactly imply it in the professional sense. Or maybe it's Alexis herself, Kate realizes, when she sees the way the young woman glances over at Daniel. It could be all of the above?

"Hey," Kate says, giving Alexis a hug. "It's good to see you."

"I hope we're not intruding," Alexis replies. The guys have moved over to the impressive display of electronics in the living room. They start geeking out over some newly released video game that Castle is showing Daniel.

"Of course not," Kate says.

"I wasn't thinking. It was a kind of a spur of the moment thing." And yet, Kate gets the feeling that Alexis has wanted to make this introduction for a while. Now that she thinks about it, didn't she hear the name "Daniel" in a phone conversation with Alexis a few months ago? She wonders how long it's been going on, and why wait until now?

"He's cute," Kate says, her voice quiet enough that the guys won't hear them.

"He's also smart, inspiring, and funny, and—" Alexis seems to catch herself, her fair complexion giving away that fact that she's embarrassed to find herself going on and on. "Sorry."

"No need, I've been there," Kate says.

"Just promise me that if my dad gets too out of hand you'll help run interference."

"That's funny. Since when did you start believing I have any control over your dad? I can't even get him to stop playing with the siren when we're riding in cop cars."

But Alexis doesn't react to the humor. "We're going to tell him that we're moving in together."

Kate stops for a moment, digests that information, and says only half-seriously, "I should probably hide my gun upstairs."

"Who's hungry?" Castle claps his hands together and begins leading the way to the table.

* * *

><p>Rick finds Beckett on the back porch. The way she slipped out at the right moment and doesn't seem surprised that he comes to seek her out after, it tells him that she already knew.<p>

Alexis was firm and confident in her decision. She outlined a host of practical reasons for her and Daniel to move in together, starting with saving money on rent. Daniel said all the right things that a guy should say to a girl's father. Stuff about respect and wanting to be there for her to support her and take care of her.

Rick was, of course, the cool dad. He smiled and nodded in all the appropriate spots. Then he immediately went to find Kate to help talk him off the ledge.

Because the darkest secret that super-hero Castle harbors is that he's not at all the cool dad. He's never been close to the cool dad. Most of the things Alexis has done, he's never been cool with at all, but somehow he managed to suffer his way through while biting his tongue as much as he could without drawing blood. Mostly hoping for the best. He's never figured out how she turned out so right.

Rick wants to like this boyfriend guy. He wants to believe Daniel will treat his daughter well, but sometimes when he looks at Alexis all he sees is his 6-year-old falling off the swing at the park. Who will be there to catch her? He knows Alexis makes good choices; but does this guy actually know how lucky he is that she picked him?

"He seems nice," Beckett says.

"Yeah," he says, resigning himself.

He sits down next to Beckett on the double porch swing. She's got her shoes off and one foot tucked underneath. While the other dangles down and gives a push off the ground now and again to keep it going slowly back and forth. Things are changing, Rick can feel it. His writer brain likes this swing as a metaphor, it's in motion but at least he has Kate on board with him for the ride.

"Alexis wouldn't do this if she wasn't absolutely sure," Beckett says. "It's what she wants. It's what will make her happy."

"Yeah," he repeats. It's nothing that he doesn't already know, but it is nice to hear a second opinion in agreement. _Her_ opinion.

"And just think," Beckett says conspiratorially. "All those things you're feeling, it's the exact same way that you make my dad feel."

"But we're not…" Before he finishes, she raises an eyebrow at him in that 'Don't be stupid, Castle' way she has when she is already three steps ahead of him. "Oh."

Beckett leans in and kisses him; it's only a short peck on the cheek, but it's enough. Huh, that's news. She pats him on the arm as she gets up and heads inside. Good news, now that it's starting to really sink in. Very good news.

* * *

><p>Kate is in that drifting place between sleep and awake, where her subconscious is starting to take over as director of her thoughts but she's still aware of the air conditioning clicking on in the house and the feel of the pillow beneath her cheek. She suddenly hears a loud shattering noise and sits up, heart pounding. Then she hears Castle. It's not a scream, but it's certainly duress, and there's no doubt she's fully awake now. She fumbles with the nightstand drawer in the dark and finds her gun.<p>

"Castle?" she yells out as she rushes across the hall to his bedroom. She opens the door and draws her gun.

"I'm alright!" he says, switching on a light. It forces her to squint, but she keeps glancing around anyway for the source of the problem. "I'm OK," Castle says, calmer now. "Looks like someone threw a brick through the window."

Kate is about to go over to the window and investigate, but hears movement down the hallway and exits the room, raising her gun to the potential threat.

"Holy shit!" Daniel raises his hands. "I'm sorry I snuck into Alexis' room. I won't do it again, I swear."

"It's just us," Alexis says, and Beckett lowers the gun toward the floor. "Is my dad OK?"

"Fine," Kate answers as Castle appears at her side. "All of you get in my room and wait there while I check the rest of the house." It's the room at the back, away from the street and strategically the safest at this moment until she determines what is going on. Before Castle has a chance to object and try to go with her, she adds in her sternest voice, "Stay put, Castle."

She makes her way through the hallway and down the stairs. The first floor is quiet, and she switches on the overhead light in the kitchen. As she makes her way systematically across the layout she switches on more lamps, leaving no shadowy corner unexamined.

The landline rings and Kate goes back up the stairs. When she enters her room again, Castle's on the phone with the security system company letting them know that everyone is fine.

"Ask them to send a squad car," Kate interrupts whatever Castle's saying into the phone. He pauses. She persists, "We'll need someone to take pictures and fill out an official report. We're nowhere close to my jurisdiction."

Castle finishes up with the security company; meanwhile, his arm is around Alexis on the bed beside him. Daniel's slouched in a chair over by the window, and Kate feels for the guy. This was clearly not turning out to be the weekend he'd hoped for. She crosses toward him, picking up her sneakers on the floor nearby.

"Hey, it'll be fine," she offers. "Probably just some kids pulling a prank."

"Probably." Daniel is focused on Alexis, and more accurately the way that she's currently seeking some level of comfort in her father's presence. Presumably not wanting to be in Daniel's arms at this moment.

Kate knows how he feels. During the early years working with Castle, she often marveled at the close relationship between father and daughter. They were — and still are to some extent — a special unit. The two of them take on the world in a united front, and she wondered if they had room for anyone else in there. It took some time to understand it, and to carve out space.

Kate pulls on her shoes and says, "Castle, you're with me." Exiting the room, she knows that he'll follow on instinct. At the doorway, Kate stops Castle from going further, not before she finds a pair of shoes for him to put on as well. There's glass everywhere.

They both spend some time examining the scene without touching anything. They also switch off the light for a moment so they can more easily peer out into the darkness and see if there's anything below the window or any suspicious movements outside. A couple of cars pass on the road beyond the front yard, but otherwise things are peaceful. There's nothing to do but wait for the local cop to show up.

Castle says something about going downstairs, but Kate stops him. She hadn't noticed until now that he's bleeding. "I'm fine, it's nothing," he insists. But she leads him into the attached bathroom anyway and opens the cabinets upon his direction, where she finds antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages.

Castle sits down on the closed toilet seat, and she goes to work, dabbing at a gash along his arm and a couple of small cuts on his neck and cheek. Then she applies band-aids and finishes up. All the while he's watching her, not saying much.

"Felt pretty good, didn't it?" he finally asks, when she's closing up the cap on the bottle of antiseptic.

"What?" She's startled by his question. He slips an arm around her, and suddenly she realizes just how close they are. She is standing between his legs, his chin about level with her chest, and he's looking up at her.

"This is the first time you pulled your gun and cleared a scene since…"

She takes a shaky breath. He's right, and the thought hadn't even occurred to her. "Yeah."

Now both his hands are at her waist, his fingers making slow circles on her hips. "Feel good?"

His one hand slides along her lower back and tugs a little. She stumbles a step forward, only a breath away from him now. "Yeah, feels good." She's not sure exactly what they're talking about anymore.

"Like old times."

Yes, only better. "Except this time you stayed when I told you to."

He smiles, slow and sexy. "I'm learning that taking orders from you might have advantages that I never considered before." She puts her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. The heady mix of adrenaline wearing off and this newfound confidence in Castle is, well, more than she can take standing up.

"Dad, I think the police are here."

They jump apart, and then they share a chuckle over their combined reaction. "Be there in a second," he says loudly enough for Alexis to hear.

"Listen," Kate says, before the moment is lost. "Do me a favor. Try not to kill Daniel."

"He said he snuck into Alexis' room. They're moving in together. I think you had every justification to shoot, and aim low."

"Castle." She goes for the kill, leaning in and whispering into his ear so close that she could lick it. "If you promise me that you'll forget all about it and ignore the fact that he snuck into her room, sometime, and I mean sometime very soon, I'll let you sneak into mine."


	6. Chapter 6

The buzz of lawn mowers and edgers wakes Rick up. It takes a minute to remember why he's sleeping on the couch. Oh, right, the brick through the window.

The local police were at the house for what felt like ages, and then he had to find some plywood in the garage to cover the opening where the window once was. All in all it made for a late night. The last thing that he needed after the ordeal was his overly-ambitious landscaping service making an early morning visit. But apparently, that's exactly the way his luck is working these days.

What he and Beckett told the local cop last night was likely true. It was either a random prank, or if it was targeted, it was due to their involvement in a recent high-profile trial. But the attention would wear off with time, so it was probably nothing to worry about.

So why is he lying here worrying? There were people who now hated his father and might direct that at the rest of the family, never mind that Rick has never actually met the man. There were others who in some warped view of the world felt that victims of the crimes and their families were making it all up. That they were trying to take down a well-loved and honored member of New York society. That they were smearing the name and reputation of a good man, and might try to go after Kate as a result of their way of thinking. There were certainly protesters on all sides of the debate outside the court house day after day. But would any of them actually take it this far? To seek them out at home and inflict property damage as a kind of warning?

He sighs. It's all more than he's equipped to handle first thing in the morning before caffeine.

Rick's in the kitchen fiddling with the coffee maker when Kate makes her morning appearance wearing black stretchy pants and a tight-fitting exercise top. There's a sight. And since things seem to be changing between them, he doesn't bother to hide his thorough going over of her in that outfit.

She tries to hide the smile when she catches him at it. "I'm going for a run. Care to join me?"

His automatic response would have been no, but there's the outfit to consider. Also the fact that once Alexis and Daniel are up, Rick likely won't get any more alone time with Beckett for the remainder of the day. While he could think of better activities for alone time with Beckett, going for a run is better than nothing.

"Yeah, give me a minute to change."

About a half a mile down the beach, Rick remembers something from last night that he'd filed away in the back of his mind. It probably isn't important, but he is curious.

"Why did that cop from last night seem to know who you were? And what was it that he said about a phone call or voice message or something?"

"I called his partner," she says after a moment. "His partner happens to be Ryan's uncle. I talked to him the other day about the Glendale murder case."

Rick stops running and after a couple extra strides she realizes and stops as well. "Kate," he says, but breaks off. He's not even sure how he feels about it, let alone what to say to her.

"Before you say anything, yes, I was going to tell you. I wanted to find the right time, and then Alexis showed up and…"

"Can you even help?" It's a good question, and all she can do is shrug. She could tell him that cold cases usually go unsolved forever, that there's a point where it's simply too late. There are only a slim number of cases where decades later something new comes to light, or a new forensic technique could be discovered that will help. She could tell him all these things, but of course he already knows. They've been through all of this before, painfully.

"I asked a few questions, Castle. That's all, and it ends here if you say it does."

He's distracted, focused down the beach in the direction of the Glendale's place. "I don't know, maybe. Let me think about it."

* * *

><p>The pool is small. Well, no, that's not entirely accurate. It's that Kate has come to expect Castle to do things a little over the top. So all the times that he's mentioned his place in the Hamptons and the pool in the back, she imagined it to be something that rivaled an elaborate vacation water park. Turns out it's a round, tiled, in-ground pool, surrounded by a deck area that's rather tasteful and serene.<p>

"He wanted to do the pool and deck in a pirate ship theme." It's like Alexis is reading Kate's thoughts.

"I wondered why it was so… normal?"

In the lounge chair beside Kate, Alexis lowers the Austen novel that she's been reading. "Dad broke his leg the summer we put the pool in, so he couldn't really get out here to supervise. Gram and I pretty much did what we wanted and kept telling him that it was going fine. He still mourns the loss of the water canons."

Kate smiles; she can only imagine.

"He told me you might look into the murder of that boy who was found on the beach forever ago."

At this Kate sits up. "Maybe." She wants to add that she doesn't think they will find anything. She doesn't want Alexis to get her hopes up that something could come of it. But she senses this conversation is less about what she has to say and more about Alexis feeling the need to get something off of her chest. So she holds back, reading another two paragraphs in her paperback before Alexis speaks up again.

"If you want to know my two cents, I think you guys should do it."

"You do?" Kate's even more curious now. It could be Alexis' natural interest, along with her budding law career, but maybe it's more than that? "Can I ask why?"

"I don't know. Several reasons, I guess. First is that I think it would be good for my dad to know. I mean, he's only brought it up a few times over the years, but it's obviously something that affected him. Also, the Glendales are nice people and they deserve to know."

"Every victim's family does." Kate states the obvious, because she's not sure what else to say.

"And one more thing." Alexis fiddles with the corner of the glossy cover of the book. "I mean, I don't know…"

Is there more to this? Could Castle be in trouble? Maybe Alexis is hiding something? Kate tries to radiate calm, despite the mild panic rising inside. "Whatever it is, Alexis, you know that you can always talk to me."

Alexis takes a breath, "It's just that… Whenever things were bad, or something was wrong with you or Dad, or both of you, my dad always said that the two of you working a case together was the best medicine. It healed everything."

"Alexis." There's a tight feeling in Kate's chest as concern and caring wrestle each other. "I'm fine, and your dad is fine."

"Physically you both are fine." Alexis sits up and swings her legs over the side of the lounge chair so they're facing one another. "This time."

The reference to the number of times one or both of them ended up in an ambulance certainly didn't help. The amount of guilt Kate already carried around for causing Alexis to worry over the years was immeasurable, more so than for her own father or their colleagues at the Twelfth. "Look, I don't know—"

"Please," Alexis said softly. "Work the case with my dad."

Kate nodded once. "I left it up to him, but if he wants to do it, then I'll help him look into it." She felt the need to caution Alexis, "But remember, this is a very cold case, there's a good chance that—"

"It doesn't matter if you solve it. That's not the point."

Before Kate could ask what that was supposed to mean, Castle approached with a gigantic SuperSoaker in hand. "Last one into the pool is woken up this way at dawn!" And he liberally soaked them both.

Shrieking and running toward the diving board was not Kate's most elegant retreat from an armed attacker ever.

* * *

><p>Alexis and Daniel hang around Sunday night, deciding to drive back into the city early in the morning to head to their respective places of summer employment. Castle's currently beating Daniel in Super Mario Cart, but he's building hypotheses that involve Daniel purposely throwing the game to gain favor. There's no need. Daniel has quickly grown on him this weekend, not that Ricks's going to tell the kid for some time. Let him sweat it out a little.<p>

All of the sudden a red shell hits Rick's character onscreen and he's knocked out of first place as he was about to cross the finish line.

"Victory!" Daniel says, grinning at Castle.

OK, he likes the kid even more now. "Nice one. But you know this means rematch."

"Maybe later?" Alexis asks, interrupting them before the trash talking escalates any further. Something passes between Alexis and Daniel, some silent communication, and it's an interesting thing for Rick to watch. He thinks of what Esposito calls "the special telepathy" between him and Beckett and wonders if it's the same kind of thing.

"Sure," Daniel says, "I was going to go pack up a few things before the morning anyway. You two hang out."

After he leaves, Alexis plops herself down on the couch. Rick switches off the TV and the cartoon characters disappear.

"Are we good?" she asks.

"Of course we are." He sets down the game controller, drawing her against his side in a half-hug.

"I mean because of Daniel and all…"

Rick gives it a second; he does have mixed emotions about it, even though he supports her. "It's going to take some time for me to get used to it, but I will. He's a good man, and he plays a mean Mario Cart."

She laughs a little. It's moments like these that he sees his little girl still. Her pigtails, riding her bike, singing in the bathtub, how did it all go by so fast? He knows that until his dying day he'll miss those things. In the echoes of that thought he thinks of other little girls, like Beckett, of parents like the Glendales who had it all cut short. Far too short.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Dad." She's sitting back now, lounging on the arm of the sofa, her foot bouncing to some happy, internal beat. She's the picture of contentment. If he's ever going to bring this up, maybe now is the time.

"Did you know that the place you're interning this summer was the same law firm that Beckett's mom worked at?"

"Yes, why do you think I picked it?" It's the last thing he expected to hear her say. "I showed Kate the list of places where I got an offer; I wanted her opinion. When she told me, my decision was made. Of course I was going to pick it."

If he's not careful, this feeling welling up inside is going to give him away. No way is he going to get all weepy in front of her. "Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?"

"Only all the time. And I love you for that." She gets up and plants a kiss on his forehead. "Now go out there on the porch and tell Beckett that you've decided you want to look into that cold case with her."

Huh? "Wait, how did you know…?"

She crosses her arms over her chest and has that look of 'Come on, really?'

"Oh right, because you're ten times smarter than I am." He's only partly joking. "I forget sometimes."

"Plus, for being the writer in the family, Dad, you're kind of an open book."

* * *

><p>"Now Castle, let me handle this."<p>

He and Beckett are about to enter the building housing the Suffolk County Police department, bright and early on a Monday morning.

She continues the warning. "These guys are not going to be too happy about the NYPD poking into their cases, and even a hint of a jurisdictional standoff can get ugly. So, you know, try to be less _you _and shut up and let me handle this."

"Less _me_?" Rick wants to laugh; if she only knew. Yeah, that seals it. He's totally going to let her walk in there blind. "And _these guys_?" he asks, nonchalant. "Isn't that awfully sexist of you, Kate? Assuming that they're all going to be men and that this rural, backwoods place can't deal with a woman on the force?"

"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand? Because it's not that hard of a concept for most people."

They hadn't even started the investigation yet, and already, they're falling into old familiar patterns. Rick can't help the grin; he hasn't felt this good in months.

He opens the front door of the station for her and a little bell goes off to alert anyone inside that they have visitors. Rick's glad to see that the initial picture is going to reinforce everything Beckett has presumed. There are two older white men sitting behind a counter in the main administration area, leaned back in their chairs, and watching a sport fishing show on an old 17-inch tube TV. Their identical blue uniforms cover impressive girths, with buttons barely holding it all together. If only they were each eating jelly doughnuts.

"Hello," Kate says. "Good morning, I'm Detective Beckett from the NYPD."

One of the guys half-turns toward them, but hardly takes his eyes from the TV. "What can we do for you?"

"We have a case that might have ties to a cold case in your jurisdiction. I'm not here to step on any toes, simply to get some information."

"Do you have a case file number and a warrant or other necessary paperwork?"

Beckett puts on her prettiest smile; Rick tries to hide his smirk. Oh, here it comes… "Gentlemen, I was really hoping that we could be amicable here. All I would like to do is speak to someone—"

"Sorry, you have to file the paperwork first."

Beckett sets her shoulders, never a good sign. "I think that you—"

"Ricky?" A woman's voice comes from down the hall on their right. "Rick, is that really you?"

"Miranda," Rick says, opening his arms as she approaches, and giving her a friendly hug. "How have you been? You look great." He's not being polite. She is slim and trim, her golden hair pulled back in a loose braid and her green eyes sparkling at him. For an instant, she's the image of her 17-year-old self on a warm July night around a bonfire.

"You don't so look bad yourself, Rick." She acknowledges Beckett's presence then, "And you are?"

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD."

Miranda raises a brow and swings attention back to Rick. "Get yourself into trouble again?"

"Trying to," Rick replies, in jest. "No, this is my partner. I work with her while researching my books."

"Right, I heard about that." Miranda gives them a wave to indicate that they should follow. "Come back to my office. Darren and Grady," she yells over her shoulder, "try to at least pretend to look useful."

Once inside her office she offers them both coffee. Rick can identify the exact moment that Beckett notices the 'Miranda Weber, Chief of Detectives' nameplate on the desk. Beckett slides an annoyed look toward Rick, after having put it all together.

"That would be great," Rick says to Miranda, and tells her how both he and Beckett take their coffee.

Once Miranda steps out, Beckett turns on Castle. "You know her?"

"Yeah, I know her." Rick enjoys every second of this. "Known her for years, actually. She's been Chief since her dad died in office eight years ago and she took over the family business, so to speak." He leans in a little. "We dated the summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school."

He can tell that Kate's simmering under the surface. She asks, "Anything else that I should know?"

He takes a moment, really milking it. "Oh yeah," he adds as if he's only just thought of it. "She was my first."

"I meant professionally, Castle."

So damn good to be back. "Nope. I think that about covers it."


	7. Chapter 7

They arrive home with takeout for lunch and a stack of copied photos, paperwork, and case notes. Though it drives Kate nuts to admit it, little Miss Miranda came through big time. But did she have to flirt so openly with Castle while she showed them down to the evidence locker personally? No problem, use the Xerox machine. Come back any time. We're happy to help. Anything you need. She even laughed at every one of Castle's jokes.

Kate wished she'd brought along her gun, to shoot herself.

Only a couple of reporters are hanging around near the front lawn when she and Castle return home to his Hamptons retreat. The heat must be getting to the reporters, or the length of this news cycle. They only give a half-hearted attempt at shouting out questions, hopeful for a statement, but not really trying.

Castle gives her a weary look. Kate's glad the sentencing hearing is only a few days away; all the activity die down completely after that. She hopes.

"I know the perfect place for the murder board," he says, as they enter the house through the garage door into the kitchen. He's little more enthusiastic than she thinks is warranted. "The plywood over the window upstairs."

She stops, trips over her thoughts for a moment, and shakily comes up with, "What happens when the window guys come in the morning to fix it?"

His enthusiasm dies like she's a firehose on his flame. "Good point," he admits.

Castle mutters about figuring out what to use for a makeshift murder board after lunch because he's starving, and he digs into the take-out bags they set down on the kitchen island.

For a second there, truth be told, she was terrified by the thought of being in a bedroom with him alone for hours while they do nothing but stare at a murder board. It's like some kind of twisted–

"Earth to Beckett." He snaps a finger in front of her face.

"What?"

"I asked diet coke or ice tea? They drank us out of the rest of the options over the weekend."

"Diet coke is fine."

The second truth is, for all her own flirting with Castle over the weekend, she doesn't know what happens now. Is Castle taking it in stride as nothing more than what Miranda was doing this morning? Did Kate only flirt because it was safe, knowing nothing was going to come of it as long as Castle had his daughter around?

They'd always had an underlying, unspoken, semi-agreement that once Kate's mother's murder was solved and she could put that behind her, that's when she and Castle would finally get together. Didn't they? But neither of them expected the twist at the end. Even he wouldn't have come up with such a complication to write into one of his books.

Does she still want him? God, yes. Does she still think it's the reward she deserves? That it's the best thing for him too?

"We have a case to solve," Castle says, wagging an eyebrow at her as he shovels food in his mouth, wanting to get working as soon as possible.

She sighs. It appears that all the feelings and the unspoken things they should be talking about are shoved aside to instead focus on a case. Just like old times.

* * *

><p>The crime scene photos are hard for him, but once Rick gets beyond that it becomes like any other case. They dig through the witness statements, establish a timeline, and consider likely suspects. He looks over at Beckett reading something; she's got a crease in between her brows as she concentrates. The fact that he finds it cute isn't anything new, but he allows himself to dwell and almost says it aloud – that never would've happened before.<p>

Before what?

He's not even sure what's going on here, but there is something. And he knows that he likes it. He sits back in his chair, and after a minute, she notices his attention on her.

"What?" she asks, looking up from the file.

"Nothing." But Castle can't help the happiness that bubbles up inside despite the circumstances. They're in the dining room, case-related materials scattered across the table and a piece of cardboard perched up on the credenza. There's not much on the cardboard yet other than Jason's name and the date he died.

"So," Kate recaps what they discovered so far, "we've got a kid who was found on the beach with wounds that were inflicted post-mortem."

Rick never knew that; turns out the police kept the details of the actual cause of death a secret. Jason Glendale, age six, had a lot of alcohol in his system and drowned to death. The blood Rick had seen on the day he found the body must have been due to the waves pounding it against the rocks shortly after the boy died.

Beckett continues to tick off the main details of the case. "There were no witnesses to the body being dumped there. The older sister—"

"Dana," Rick supplies, without having to look at the notes. She's about ten years older, and even if there had never been a murder, he would've remembered her. "She was popular and very pretty."

"Was everyone around here gorgeous?"

"Jealous much?"

It's a callback to a joke she'd made recently. He expects a typical Beckett response; that's why he says these things, after all. But he doesn't get one and if anything, she's trying not to react. As if she doesn't want him to know that he hit the nail right on the head. Kate Beckett, jealous? Impossible. But maybe she's also unsure of this shaky ground they've found themselves on.

Rick starts to get an idea.

"Dana was babysitting Jason and her other younger siblings," Kate continues on. "They were all on the beach, and she was reading a magazine and didn't notice that Jason had gone missing."

Beckett shuffles a few papers around looking for something. "When she does notice, she runs back home and tells her mother, who immediately begins searching for Jason. Soon Mrs. Glendale calls the police and the neighbors join in the search."

Rick chimes in now, despite the fact that his mind is a little preoccupied with his budding plan. "That's what drew my attention, all the noise and commotion of the search. I left the backyard where my mother thought I was playing, and I wandered down the beach." He stops as the images come back like a sad slideshow. He doesn't remember what his favorite toy was at that time or hardly anything else, but that day is like etched gold in his early memory.

"My question is, why did they think it was murder?"

"I'm sorry?" he asks.

Beckett shakes her head. "It could have been ruled an accident. Think about it. A kid gets a hold of some alcohol. Not knowing what it is, he drinks it, gets completely disoriented, and goes into the water and drowns."

"But you were there at the Glendale's house, you saw how Mr. Glendale keeps the liquor and wine in that cabinet high up. There's no way a little kid could reach it. Plus I'm pretty sure that it locks."

"OK, but someone could have given Jason something to drink on the beach."

"Thus the theory that it must have been murder." Castle sorts through a couple of papers and comes up with notes from one of the investigators. "They did consider the accident angle but it just didn't add up. Maybe for a teenager, but not for a 6-year-old. The investigators believed that someone must have given the alcohol to him, and probably with the intent to do harm."

"Was he sexually assaulted?"

Honesty compels him to say, "No signs of it," based on the evidence. But that doesn't mean no.

"Someone must have seen something and never come forward." Beckett drops the papers she's holding to the dining room table. "How crowded was the beach that day?"

Rick thinks back. "I don't think it was very crowded. It was an overcast day."

"I don't know if there's anything we can do here, Castle. Maybe we can talk to the lead investigator, maybe a couple of others involved, but…"

"Tomorrow."

"What?"

He repeats, "It can wait until tomorrow. We've been at this all afternoon and it's after 7 now."

She seems resigned to admit that he's right. It's a cold case, so working through the night isn't necessary at this point.

"I suggest," Rick stands up, "that we knock off and relax."

"OK." She's got a look on her face that he doesn't know how to read. That's unusual; in general he can tell what is going on with her, even if she's trying to cover her frame of mind.

"How about I order some food? I know the head chef at Antonio's. They don't deliver but I bet if I ask him nicely, he'll make an exception and send a busboy over here with whatever we'd like."

"You don't have to go to any trouble, Castle."

"No trouble," he says. "We can open a bottle of wine, maybe have a fire in the fireplace."

Her breath catches, as she must be beginning to understand the nuances of his plan. Before she panics, Rick turns toward the kitchen. "Or, you know, Chef Boyardee is fine too. Whatever you prefer."

* * *

><p>"I didn't know that you won a science fair?"<p>

"Rockets," Castle says, as if that explains everything. Which, now that she thinks about it, it kind of does.

"Of course," Kate says, amused. "It all makes sense now."

They're both on the couch. Kate's relaxed against the cushions, empty dishes on the coffee table in front of them. Castle even followed through on the promise of wine and a fire. The only other light comes from a soft bulb on in the kitchen behind them. She's just had a fantastic meal and two glasses of wine along with an earful of silly stories about Castle's childhood.

She knows this is dangerous.

It's not that they've never been here before; in fact they have, many times. It's just that right now is the point in this play where she usually gets up and exits stage left. She's vulnerable and it's time to run, but her feet aren't moving.

They've disagreed over the years on things big and small, from looking into her mother's case to who gets to drive. There have been times they struggled to see eye-to-eye. There were certainly jealousies on both sides, though never spoken of. There were clues to jealousy's existence that often went ignored. There were starts and stops, almosts, and what ifs. But they've ended up here, where it feels like maybe this wild journey should finally reach the pay off. Not end, but begin a new course.

"You've done things over the years that I didn't always like. But I realize now that you were only doing it to protect me," she says, not entirely sure where she intends this conversation to go. Or she knows and hasn't admitted it to herself, but is starting to see.

"Yeah."

"And I've protected you." Not only from bad guys and gunshots; it goes deeper than that.

He nods. "Many times."

"So we're both here." She sets down her wineglass. "We both made it, so now what?"

"Now…" He hasn't taken his eyes off her. Despite Castle's ability to play the fool, when he wants to, he can be the most serious man she's ever known. "Now is whatever you want to make of it."

It's a neutral reaction and she doesn't buy it for a minute, not with the fire and the wine and the soft lighting. He has set the stage here, and she's not going to let him pretend otherwise. "What about you, Rick, what do you want?"

A moment passes when she's not sure that he'll answer. Maybe he'll be the one to exit this time, and they're destined never to find out what happens next. Then he says in a voice rich with emotion, "I think you've always known the answer to that."

Maybe she has.

"My first thought…" Kate backs off from where this is no doubt going, because there's something that she needs to make clear to him first.

"When they told me, and Esposito went into that room to tell you, my first thought was that you'd never be the same. You'd never again be funny and irreverent, able to look for the joy even in the worst in life. And in death. That all the things that I'd come to love about you would just go away, and you'd end up like me."

"I'm fine." He reaches out to her, and she sinks into his caress of her cheek.

"Castle, I like the side of myself you bring out in me. I want to be more of that person."

He absorbs that for a second, scoots closer on the couch. "When I was in that interview room and Esposito told me, you want to know what my first thought was? I swear my very first thought was wondering if you would think I was capable of the same things that he did."

"You are not your father. "

"And you are not your mother. You're not dead, Kate. You're here and you made it."

She crosses the remaining space between them and kisses him. His hands cradle her, and there's nothing but him. His mouth, hot and eager. His quiet "Love you" in her ear as they lie back together. His hands skimming over her body.

It's not as hurried as she thought it might be. They both take their time, unwrapping layer by layer, dropping kisses wherever they wish. She thought about being right here with him over the years. She wondered so many times would they, if they, could they, that it almost feels like a dream now.

"Kate," he whispers against her naked thigh, pressing a kiss to her skin as if confirming for her this is very real, and she moves her leg granting him the access he requests.

He's rather gentle with her, which surprises Kate. After all the longing, shouldn't they explode like a supernova? And oh yes, she wants to, because it feels so damn good with him. She doesn't want to close her eyes, she doesn't want to think, just feel every ripple of muscle as he moves, every breath against her skin, and yes, see every smug expression on his face when he elicits a moan from her. She's trying to engrave each sensation into her memory because every piece of it is precious.

She's so distracted with the pieces, she's forgotten about the whole of what they are accomplishing. All at once she's aware that she is there.

"Castle," she strangles out his name and feels him build pace. She's meeting him stroke for stroke until she can't keep up, it's all she can do to breathe and feel the delicious waves roll through her over and over. After another moment he collapses on her and he buries his head into her neck.

They're tangled together, holding on to each other and catching their breath, and all Kate can think about is that everything has changed at a time when she thought it never would. They deserve this, finally.


	8. Chapter 8

Kate wakes in her room wearing only a t-shirt and panties. Castle's arm is tossed across her midsection and he's snoring. Loudly. A big, silly, stupid grin grows on her face; she can't help it. It's early and the sun is just rising and she's never been happier.

She considers rolling over and kissing him until he wakes up, then decides to let him sleep. There will be a chance later, she's sure of that much. But it's about the only thing in her life that is settled. They have a case that doesn't seem like they can do much about. In two days there's a sentencing hearing, and after that she'll have to make a decision about work. Plus, there's this new thing with Castle. Which she's excited about but it's ill defined.

Kate takes her time in the shower, and afterwards, the bed is empty. She dresses and finds Castle downstairs. His chance to sleep late has been thwarted by the arrival of the window replacement guys. They're talking with Castle, and he's filling out paperwork and directing them upstairs, so Kate steps onto the back porch. It's become her favorite escape. She's reflecting on how much has changed since he dragged her into the rain to dance when Castle comes up behind her, circling his arms around her.

"Good morning," she says as he kisses her cheek, and she settles back against him.

"It certainly is."

"Are you going to use all the corny morning after lines?"

"Only if they work."

They stand there, enjoying the feeling of each other for a moment and watching the early morning beach-goers walking or jogging by. She feels like she's been standing still too long. In a symbolic sense, not here in his arms, because that kind of standing still is exceedingly nice. But suddenly she's restless to get moving again and be a part of what everyone else is hustling about doing. Maybe it's time for her to get back to work?

"I was thinking," she says, "that while you wait here on the window repair, I would go over and talk with Mrs. Glendale."

"I could go with you if you wait a little while," he offers.

"No, that's OK. I actually think it might be better if it's just me."

"OK."

She starts to move, her mind's eye already ahead on the path to the Glendale's house, but Castle doesn't let her go so fast.

"Hey," he says, "before you leave." He catches her, and kisses her in a way that's sweet and lingering and recalls memories from last night.

Yeah, it's a good morning indeed. They have this now.

* * *

><p>Kate's sitting in the same sunny kitchen in the Glendale's house, but this time, she has the knowledge of what happened to this family. It changes her impression of the house, and especially of this charming woman sitting across from her sipping a cup of tea.<p>

"Something's changed between you and Rick." Mrs. Glendale sets down her cup with a hint of pride, as if she's determined the future in her tealeaves.

"It's that obvious?" Kate smiles. Then worries a little about the fact that if Mrs. Glendale can pick up on it after 60 seconds, what about their family and friends back in the city? She can only imagine what Lanie is going to say.

"You're lighter, happier." Mrs. Glendale pats her hand and seems pleased. Kate begins to regret what she's come here this morning to discuss; it'll instantly change the mood between them. Maybe best to ease into it a little?

"When Rick and I were here for dinner, you talked about your grandkids, but I didn't get much chance to hear about your kids, Mrs. Glendale."

"Rick told you about Jason."

Or maybe not ease into it, dive right into the deep end. "He mentioned something about it. What was Jason like?"

"He was a sweet boy. Loved to be right underfoot, you know? Some of them can't wait to grow up and go off, leave mom behind, and have adventures with their friends. But Jason loved being close to me."

Mrs. Glendale gets up and hunts through one of the kitchen drawers while she talks about Jason's fascination with airplanes, how he started to read at a young age just to keep up with his older brother David, and more. She pauses when she finds what she's been looking for; she sets a photo down in front of Kate.

"He comes to me in my dreams still. He'll surface out of the water and start to tell me what happened, but I always wake up before he can finish."

"I'm sorry." Kate stares at the picture of a laughing boy in a Superman t-shirt, missing a front tooth. "I know what it's like to lose someone unexpectedly."

"But it wasn't your child?"

"No, it was my mother. She was stabbed to death."

"Was she one of the victims of… that man who was on trial recently?" she asks.

Kate can guess why she stumbled part way through the question. She's sure Mrs. Glendale almost said "victim of Rick's father." She wonders if Mrs. Glendale knew the man, or knew of him and the connection to the Castle family long before the trial and the news coverage broke the story to everyone. Martha claimed she never told anyone, but Kate wonders if there weren't one or two close confidantes over the years that were aware.

"Did you ever meet him?" Kate asks, not sure if she wants to know the answer, but feeling compelled to press this.

"No." Mrs. Glendale shakes her head. "I once asked Martha about it, and all she said was that Rick was an unexpected gift. She left it at that, and I never asked again."

"Mrs. Glendale." Kate warms her hands around the coffee cup. "Was there ever anyone who, at the time, maybe you thought that you couldn't trust around your kids? Someone who you wondered if they could have done something to Jason? A coach or teacher that seemed overly interested and involved in his life? A lot of times a mother's intuition is key."

"No," she looks down at the picture of Jason on the table between them. "We felt safe here."

Apart from the picture of a murdered child staring up at Kate, his case still unsolved, that may have been true.

* * *

><p>They leave to head back to the city earlier than planned. As they pull away, Rick catches Beckett glimpsing back at the beach house. He can guess how she feels. The place has become a sanctuary for them over these couple of weeks, and the memories they've made here, especially in the last few days, will ensure it always remains a special place for the two of them.<p>

Hours later and the address in hand, they arrive at the building where Dana Glendale-Hubbard lives with her husband and two children. It's not far from Rick's own loft in Tribeca. After the fond greeting Dana has for Rick and his introduction to Beckett, Dana invites them out on the balcony to sit in the sun and talk.

"My mother called to say that you would be stopping by. What's all this about looking into Jason's death again?" Dana asks.

Rick explains, "With my connection to law enforcement, I thought why not? At least ask a few questions, see if anything new comes of it. Probably won't lead anywhere but worth a shot."

"I have no official role," Beckett adds. "But Suffolk County PD is so back-logged that they were happy for any help. I can tell you that they haven't forgotten about your brother or the case. They want it solved as much as you do."

"To be honest," Dana sits back in the patio chair, "I think I gave up years ago believing that it would ever be solved."

Beckett begins asking the standard questions; things like where were you, what do you remember, looking for anything new or an inconsistent detail in the witness statement. Rick's eyeing the cookies, which he's already had two of, and wondering if he can get away with a third.

From the beginning Rick was amazed at Beckett's ability. She could connect with victims' families and provide some level of comfort while still pulling vital information from them. He knows that her having been on the other side of it is partly the reason, but he also knows it's more than that. She has a way about her that he believes is innate.

His feelings for her, which have been on overdrive already the last couple of days, surge up. His pride, his love, everything he feels for this woman is right there, and if he's not careful, he'll go mushy or some such embarrassing behavior. So he stands and nears the balcony railing to give himself a minute.

The two women continue to talk about Jason behind him. There's one part of this that Rick can't shake. OK, to be honest, there's plenty that bothers him, but there's a single detail that tugs at him most. It feels odd shaped, like a puzzle piece that looks like it comes from a different box altogether – the alcohol in Jason's system. He can't figure out why the one unusual detail in the case is the only thing nobody was questioned about in the original investigation.

Miranda's words echo in Rick's mind, requesting that they honor that particular case detail being kept under wraps. Beckett, of course, agreed to it. But if there's one special way above the others that Rick has served Beckett well over these years, it's that he is not the police. He doesn't have to follow the same rules that she does.

"Dana." Rick turns and interrupts Beckett mid-statement. "Did you know that Jason had alcohol in his system when he died?"

It's obviously a shock to Dana and to Beckett as well. Rick is sure that Beckett agrees with him that it's ridiculous to keep it secret at this point; the reaction is more about her not being made aware ahead of time that he was going rogue.

"Are you sure?" Dana asks. "They never told us that."

Beckett agrees. "It's a common thing in investigations to keep some critical evidence away from the press, and therefore everyone involved. Even the family can't know."

Dana's entire demeanor changes and Beckett exchanges a look with Castle. There's something to this. Beckett believes his reveal has paid off.

"Is that detail important to you somehow?" Beckett asks.

She responds, "I don't know." But Dana is obviously troubled, and when she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear Rick notices that her hand is trembling. "I could be nothing..."

As Dana begins to tell her story, it's immediately evident that this is new information. "About a week or so before Jason was killed, I went to a party. My parents thought that I was sleeping over at my girlfriend's house, but both of us snuck out and went to this party that... I don't know, some kid's parents were out of town, so everyone was there. This boy that I only knew a little gave me a drink. I'd snuck a beer at a family barbeque, maybe I'd had some champagne or wine at that point in my life, but never something like whatever was in this drink. It was potent and started to affect me. Then the boy..."

There's a pause, and Dana starts again. "Nothing much happened, I mean, he certainly tried, but I kicked him and ran away. I found my friends and we left. I never told anyone because, well, I was fine. I didn't want to get in trouble for being at the party. But now that you...

"That kid, he was a local, but his family didn't have much money, so he did yard work and odd jobs to bring in extra cash. He was working on our yard the morning that Jason was killed. I thought he'd already left by then, but I don't know."

Rick meets Beckett's eyes to confirm, yeah, they've certainly got a lead now, a very good one. A kid who resents the rich kids around him gets rejected at a party by a girl and maybe wants to send her a message, prove to the world that he's worth something and in charge. It all adds up to strong motive.

"Do you have a name?" Beckett asks.

* * *

><p>For Kate, walking into the Twelfth Precinct with Castle at her side is like finally coming home after a long time spent abroad and getting to sleep in your own bed again. Even the florescent lights, the stacks of papers, and the faint smell of burnt coffee are comforting and wonderful. Castle seems to be affected too, because he puts a hand on the small of her back, and she's certain that it's as much for himself as it is a show of support for her benefit.<p>

"Does it feel like suddenly everything is right with the world?" he whispers to her as they make their way through the bullpen.

She can't help but smile. "Yeah, but what's with Ryan sitting in my chair?"

"Hey, look who is back." Esposito spots them first. He stands up, and others begin to slowly recognize them and come over to shake hands and offer welcome back greetings.

"It's good to see you guys too," Kate says to Esposito and Ryan, noticing how quickly Ryan scrambles to get up.

They talk for a few minutes about what's been going on at the station, and Kate's about to get to the point of why they're here when Lanie walks in. She does a once over on both of them and says, "What's going on?"

Castle clearly panics. "Nothing. Why do you think something is going on?" But Kate just rolls her eyes; it's not like they were going to be able to keep it a secret. Although it's nice to know that Castle would try if she'd asked him to.

"What's going on," Kate says, giving a firm look to the guys, "is exactly what you think is going on, and we're leaving it at that."

"Sure," from Ryan.

"Obviously," says Esposito.

"Of course," Ryan again.

Then Esposito smiles and says, "We'll get the details from Castle later."

Castle puts his hands up and gives her that 'I'm not doing anything, it's not my fault' look. Sure. Like she believes that for a second.

"About damn time," Lanie says to Kate, and then winks at Castle. She hands over the file to Esposito that she's been holding, presumably the reason she came up here.

Kate takes that as an opportunity to change gears away from her love life. "The reason we stopped by is that I need you guys to run a name for me."

"You could have called," Esposito points out as Ryan takes the paper Kate hands him.

Kate silently agrees. Yes, they could have, but she'll take the opportunity to have a little fun. "Also, Castle missed you and wanted to stop by and see you."

"Me?" Castle asks. "I thought it was you that... Oh. Yeah, it was me."

Esposito just shakes his head in disappointment. "She's got you wiped already, Bro."

"Come on," Castle replies. "Like I was ever going to be the one to wear the pants in this relationship."

"True."

Kate's pretty sure she's setting the all-time eye rolling record today. But she's also enjoying every second of this, though she'll never admit it to any of them, it feels really good. It feels like they're whole again.

"Your guy, Travis Millicent, has a record," Ryan says, typing a few additional keystrokes before continuing. "And he's doing time right now."

"For what?" she and Castle ask simultaneously.

"Rape and murder. Apparently he likes little boys, so he's in isolation from the rest of the prisoners."

Kate's sure they have their guy, but it's too late in the day to get over to Sing Sing. Besides, she's not an active cop right now, so she has no reason to get special treatment anyway. Tomorrow they have to be in court. So that leaves them no other choice.

"Come Thursday, Travis better be in a chatty mood."

* * *

><p>They get in the car and Rick's about to turn the key when he realizes that he has no idea where they are headed. They never had that "Your place or mine?" discussion, because they were both anxious to talk to Dana and then head over to the station for more answers. He hadn't really considered until now the fact that come this evening a decision needed to be made.<p>

He wants her company. There's probably going to come a point where she would like a little room to breathe and that's fine. But not yet, he hopes.

"So, um," he says, while trying to come up with a plan to breach the subject. Maybe it's best if he's simply honest with her. "Stay with me tonight?" It comes out sounding pathetically eager, but he doesn't care.

It must have been the right thing to say, because Kate gets that expression like she's overwhelmed but in a good way. "Sure. I just need to stop at my place and get something to wear tomorrow."

Is he grinning like a dirty, lucky fool as he pulls the car away from the curb? Yeah, he probably is.


	9. Chapter 9

Rick sings in the shower as he lathers soap on his stomach. The words to 'We Built This City' echo off the tiles, until it somehow transitions into 'Nothing's Gonna Stop us Now.' He jumps, startled, when the shower curtain is pulled open beside him.

"What?" He immediately covers his privates; force of habit.

Kate bites her lip, clearly trying not to laugh at him. "If you're going to be shy, then I guess I won't join you after all."

"Join! Join! Please go right ahead and join." He takes her hand to help her step over the edge of the tub. Then he pulls the shower curtain shut as she wraps her arms around his middle.

A naked Kate Beckett in his shower, unabashedly pressing herself up against him and giving him a come hither look… Oh, yeah, this is awesome. "Best shower of my life," he says before kissing her.

He can't imagine better, because he loves kissing her. He loves everything about this woman, but he really loves kissing her. She seems to really like it too when he kisses and touches her _right there_, because she lets out this delightful little sound.

Then abruptly, as it's really starting to get good, Kate stops and says, "Starship? Really?"

"It's amazing," he tries to play shocked as he says, "suddenly all the songs make sense."

Round one goes to him, because she laughs.

* * *

><p>They're in a cab and Castle reaches over and lightly taps her hand. She opens her palm, an invitation to him to hold her hand if he'd like, and he does. It's a simple gesture, but says so much about the state of them at the moment, and how different they were just weeks ago when they were leaving the very courthouse that they're headed to today, this time together. They're finally together. She marvels at the thought, like she has several times in the last couple of days.<p>

Kate spent years denying that she had feelings for this man, or at least denying that it was anything more than warm affection that she felt towards him. Then she spent years feeling like she was so in love but couldn't give him what he wanted or needed, that she wasn't worthy. And Kate was afraid she would only end up getting hurt. Because Castle's track record with women is not the best and she wasn't sure after losing her mother if she's capable of setting herself up. Boyfriends that she didn't really love were one thing, but with him, it was different. Not that she believed she and Castle would ultimately fail, just that being in something serious where that's at minimum a remote possibility is enough to scare her.

She doesn't want to fail, and she especially doesn't want to fail him. But even with all of that baggage, the self-doubt and the fear didn't win out in the end. Somehow she thinks she always knew that it wouldn't, that it was a matter of time. There was always an inevitability about them. But then lately, she worried that she'd missed her chance.

She's a lot more settled than she thought she would be. The thing about it is, not that much has changed. They're sleeping together now, more aware of each other perhaps, but other than that it's a hell of lot easier than it should be. It's natural and comfortable, like an old favorite sweater that you want to curl up in on a Sunday morning and not go anywhere. Castle would kill her if she ever told him she's comparing him to an old sweater.

"What?" he asks, catching her distracted.

She's been in a relationship, a deep and meaningful one, with this man for years. All they've done now is finally put a label to it, that's it. Just a simple little sticker saying 'He's mine' and it's not scary at all.

Kate says to him, "I'm glad that you're here with me."

"That's good, because I am too."

* * *

><p>The hallways of the courthouse aren't nearly as packed as they were at the height of the trial. There's still quite a bit of activity, but Kate is able to spot her father.<p>

"Hi, Katie," Jim Beckett says while returning her hug and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then he turns. "Good to see you too, Rick."

Rick shakes his hand, suddenly reminded of the words Beckett said recently in regards to Alexis' situation, about how it's never an easy thing for a man to face the guy sleeping with his daughter. But Jim appears genuine in his pleasure at seeing them both, and Rick forces himself to try to relax. There probably won't be any slayings or duels today.

"How was the Hamptons?" Jim asks, "And why wasn't I invited?"

Rick can't get the words out fast enough, "I wasn't… I'm sorry. But you should come next time. There'll be a next time, and you're more than welcome to join us next time–"

"Relax, Castle," Kate cuts him off, "before you pull something. He's just teasing you."

Jim asks, "Is he always like that?"

"Nah." Kate snakes her arm around Rick's waist and they all head into the courtroom. "He's a little nervous today, that's all."

"He's standing right here," Rick says. "He can hear everything you say."

"Oh right," Kate keeps playing along. "Guess I'll have to tell you all of Rick's secrets later, Dad."

Castle aims a look at her that shouts: _Yes, please, when you tell him all about your new sleeping arrangements, make sure I am no where around. At all._

* * *

><p>Sentencing hearings are by and large short and to the point, and far less dramatic than the conviction itself, but there's something about having the two most important men in Kate's life on either side of her that makes her feel… well, frankly, more feelings than she's felt in a long time. She's been locked in and shut away, but now there's light filtering inside opening her up. There is no such thing as closure, she's learned, but there's an ability now to close a chapter.<p>

Her father hosts an informal gathering at his place afterwards. It's weird how reminiscent it is of right after the funeral all those years ago, with colleagues, neighbors, and friends of her parents everywhere. For Kate, it felt as if they were stealing the joy out of her, like a brain-sucking machine in some alien sci-fi movie her active imagination conjured up back then. Looking back, she was probably deflecting her feelings of losing her mom. Above all, she distinctly remembers sitting in that yellow chair in the corner wondering if she'd ever feel human again.

Yellow was her mom's favorite color.

Kate escapes for a moment as the toasts and tributes are spoken. Lanie is in the kitchen, and other than a couple of kids that run through chasing the dog, they are alone.

"Where's yours?" Kate asks, indicating the kids retreating.

"With Javi's mother today." Lanie's been helping with the food but hesitates. "I'm not going to ask you, in case you were wondering."

"You're not?" Kate's kind of stunned. Actually she's more than stunned that she's gotten away with it for this long already. Lanie's tenacious for details on an average day with an average guy. But now that it's Castle, finally? Oh, there's no doubt she's dying to know. And Kate's never met a more gifted yet subtle interrogator; she often wonders if Lanie is in the wrong line of work. Well, until a stiff shows up somewhere.

It's best to cut to it before it starts. "Look, about that—"

"No, I'm not going to ask you how you're doing." Lanie crosses her arms over her chest. "That has to be the world's lamest question on a day like this. As if this is anything less than one of the suckiest days of your life."

"It is," Kate says, while she attempts to catch up.

"Who in the world would ask you to actually state that out loud? As if that's going to help." Lanie shakes her head and picks up a knife and begins cutting slices from the cake on the counter.

"Well, thank you." Kate's still a little unsure what's happening here. "I think."

"And I'm sure as hell not going to ask you what's going on with Castle." Lanie keeps cutting slices as if she's not even paying attention to what she's saying. "I mean, it's not like you'd tell me anyway, so why bother?"

"Exactly. Why bother?"

Lanie serves up a particularly large piece, and then a second. "Since I'm not saying any of that, I'll only say this." She looks up at last, meeting her friend's eyes in a way that sets all joking aside. "Whatever it is, it's good for you. You look better than you have in ages."

A moment of gratitude passes between them. "Thanks," Kate says, hoping that her friend understands all that she can't put into words.

"I'm not finished yet." Lanie bends down and fishes through the depths of her enormous purse, then presents a small gift. "I've been walking around with this for a while. But it didn't seem the right time until now."

Kate opens the box and as soon as the lid is off she can't help the couple of tears that escape. It's the first time all day that she's let go. They're not entirely sad tears, and that's the thing.

Lanie continues, "I thought you'd need something to wear now that you can stop wearing your mom's ring around your neck."

Inside the box is a delicate chain with a charm hanging on it shaped like a key. One of those ornate Victorian skeleton keys, and on the side is the word "Believe" etched into it.

Many years ago, after Kate and Lanie started to become friends, they were out one night drinking some frou-frou girly drinks at a rooftop bar and talking about their dreams and OK, yes, the things they find hot in a dream man. Eventually, Kate opened up and talked about her past. About how she was sometimes afraid that she didn't have a real future with a dream man, that it felt like her mother's unsolved murder had locked her in a room and until she found the key to get out, she'd never move on. She was stuck until she found that key.

"You have your key, honey." Lanie reaches over and hugs her. "Now what are you going to do with it?"

After a moment in that embrace, Kate pulls herself together. "I think I'm going to start doing a lot of things I haven't before. But the first thing I'm going to do is eat a piece of that cake."

Lanie smiles, nods as if it's settled and all had been set right in her corner of the world, then quirks her eyebrow. "Did you know it's a medical fact that on a day like this, everything you eat has zero calories? True fact. Goes for your best friend too."

"In that case, Dr. Parish, pass over the two biggest pieces."

Two slices of cake later, they make their way back into the living room. Kate glances around and remembers it then, but sees it now. This time, she's got her own friends and colleagues from the Twelfth, plus Castle, Alexis, Martha, and a smattering of girlfriends from school and her surrounding life. People she loves despite her promise to herself all those years ago that she wasn't going to set herself up for that same kind of pain again. She's figured out that not taking that risk isn't any kind of life.

"Hey." Castle finds her in a corner, nursing a drink and surveying the room while thinking these long thoughts.

"Hey, yourself." She likes the way that he doesn't do any kind of public display, but still finds small ways to touch her at her elbow or lean into her ear so she knows he's there in support.

"So…" he says, attempting suave but falling short. "My mother and Alexis are talking about hanging at the loft together tonight."

Kate also finds it cute that he's so clueless and unsure; it's a side of Castle she doesn't see much of. "You want to stay at my place?"

"Was that obvious?"

She smiles. Yeah, that obvious. But it's good, because other than Alexis, she's always gotten the sense that women in Castle's life have orbited around him. This is the first time that it's all flipped around and he's centered on someone and she's the lucky gal. It just so happens that her world revolves around him too.

"Kate, if you're… I mean, this is big day for you and I'll understand if you don't…"

He still doesn't get it, and again, it's kind of cute. "You're the one and only thing that I need tonight. In fact, I think you might be the key."


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning at the prison, Kate and Castle meet up with Miranda, one of her deputies, and someone from the DA's office in a small anteroom before they go in to talk to the prisoner. They have a quick conversation about the game plan.

Travis Millicent is already serving enough consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole that he'll die in jail long before he has served all his time. The DA has decided that it's not worth tax dollars to put Travis Millicent back on trial, and it's not like they have a lot of solid evidence even if the DA changed his mind. The higher pay grades have decided that the best they can do is make a deal with Travis for some extra creature comforts in jail in exchange for his confession, thus allowing the family assurance that the person responsible is behind bars.

Kate doesn't like it, but she gets it. Following the discussion, they all file through the remaining levels of security to the heavily guarded room where Travis is handcuffed to a chair, sitting in front of a metal table bolted to the floor.

"Good morning, Mr. Millicent," Kate says as they enter. It was decided that she should take point on this. Castle sits down next to her. He's the only other person in the room with her; the rest are watching from behind the one-way mirror.

"I'm Detective Kate Beckett," she says smoothly, "And this is my partner, Mr. Castle."

She's about to launch into the statements and questions she's planned out, right down to the order she intends to say them, but she has to stop for a second. What has just come out of her mouth is standard rhetoric; she wasn't even thinking about it as she said it. But that was the first time in a very long time that she's spoken those simple words. It catches in her throat for a second. She glances over at Castle, and he nods once in understanding.

It's all she needs to be able to move on.

"Mr. Millicent," Kate directs herself back to him. "I have your file here." She taps the thick folder she brought into the room now sitting on the table. It has a couple of pictures and actual case documents inside, but mostly she's padded it for show. "Very interesting reading."

The prisoner has watched her since she entered but has not said a word; he's studying, like he's learning what he can of his victim before he makes his move. But she's not a little boy that can so easily be preyed upon.

Kate flips open the file folder and on top is a picture of the mangled body of a 10-year old boy that was dumped in the woods. The eyes are open and blood-filled, and the skin is eaten away by insects and rodents. It would turn the stomachs of even seasoned police officers, but the man across the table doesn't flinch.

"You liked the woods, Mr. Millicent. But I wonder, was that only late in your career? Did you start out dumping the bodies some other way and find out that it didn't work as well?"

"I waived my right to have my attorney here." Travis speaks in a careful, even tone. "But if you don't hurry up and ask what you want to know, I'm going to insist on it."

Kate continues. "We have someone here from the DA's office who is willing to put together a deal with you in exchange for you admitting to another murder."

"What could you possibly give me that I would want bad enough to do that?"

"That's up to you. More time outside, more TV time, name what you want."

"I want out of here."

"Except that, for obvious reasons." Kate leans back in her chair. This strategy isn't working, so she decides to change gears. "You know, guys like you are all the same."

"And you think you've got it all figured out, huh?"

Kate shrugs a little, playing as if he's nothing special and she's unimpressed. "You like little boys, and I suspect there's a reason for that. My guess is that sometime around your teen years you realized that you were more attracted to the other boys in school than the girls, but your father would never approve—"

"I am not gay."

Kate thinks it's curious that he jumped right to that kind of declaration. This seems to be her way in. "OK, whatever you want to call it, fine."

"I've had about had enough of this."

Kate looks squarely in his eyes. "Here's what I think, Travis. I think there's one little boy who was your first. My guess is that you had your experimental fun with him, and then something set you off and you got angry. The murder was a mistake. Except that you found that you liked it, and you've been repeating that same pattern your entire career until we caught you. Who was the first one, Travis?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, lady."

"Was it him?" Kate smacks a photo of Jason Glendale down on the table in front of him. "Did you kill him, Travis?"

"We're done here."

"All you have to do is admit it and we'll get you special treatment in return."

Travis leans forward, unblinking as he returns her stare, and replies, "I said we're done here."

Kate storms from the room and in the hallway she hits the concrete wall with an open hand. "Damn it."

"Hey, hey," Castle says, taking her hand carefully in his and brushing his thumb over her palm. "That's going to hurt later and you'll regret it."

Miranda and the others have filed out into the hall as well. "I'm sorry," Kate says to them. "I couldn't get it out of him."

She has to give Miranda credit, there is not a trace of blame or anything less than sympathy in her voice when she says, "You gave it a try. He's a tough nut to crack, and we knew there wasn't much of a shot going in."

"Yeah," Kate says. "Still." This one is going to bother her for a long time to come.

The DA's office representative promises that they will keep trying to forward requests to Travis' lawyer in hopes that one entices Travis to change his mind and talk to them again. They all exchange goodbyes and the rest leave. Kate notices that Castle is still holding her hand. "Maybe we should–"

"Yeah," he replies before she finishes. "Let's go home."

"Mr. Castle?" One of the guards that helped them through security is coming down the hall as they start to go. "Mr. Castle."

"Yes," Castle turns around. "Did we forget something?"

"Ah, no." He seems embarrassed. Kate can't quite put her finger on it, but it bothers her, and instincts are telling her something is off. "There's actually… Um, someone here heard that you were in the building. News travels fast inside a prison. He'd like to talk to you."

"Who could possibly—?" But then it must hit Castle because it's like the blood drains out of him. The guard says the name but Castle is already repeating, "No, no, no." He's still holding her hand in a show of comfort, but suddenly Kate feels like she's holding his instead. He's turning to head back to the entrance when Kate makes him stop.

"No," Castle says it like he can't believe she's not with him on this. "I do not want to see him, no way in hell."

"OK, I get that, but maybe just…" She wants to wrap her arms around him and shield him from this. She wants to make it better for him, but of course she can't. "Let's think about this for a moment."

She doesn't give Castle a chance to reply and instead requests of the guard that they have a couple of minutes, and they're shown into the same anteroom that an hour ago they were gathered to discuss the approach with Travis.

"This is so like him." Castle's gone from shock to anger now; he's pacing back and forth even though the size of the room and the length of his stride means that he's making a turn every 4 or 5 steps. "Even in here he's got power and control and he uses it to manipulate."

"Castle, have you seen your father at all since…?"

He stops pacing. "No."

This was not the answer she was expecting. "Really?"

"He killed your mother, Beckett."

"I know, but…"

"There are no buts." He crosses to her now and cups her face in his hands, a thumb caressing her cheek. "You are a part of my family, not him."

"And I appreciate the loyalty, but Rick, I really think that in order to put this behind you fully, you need to speak with your father. At least once."

"I really don't."

Or, Kate thinks, he doesn't understand how much he does. She hates being in the position of pushing him into something that will hurt him, but she knows more about this than he does, she's been living it longer. It's not about closure; she'll be the first to tell him that is unattainable. It's about gaining some ability to put a chapter of his life behind him. Allowing a better chapter to begin.

"Please," she pleads. Her heart breaks on that one word. Knowing what it will do to him, knowing how she's using his love for her against him so cruelly.

But bless him, Castle doesn't let any of it show when he quietly says, "OK."

* * *

><p>"You have five minutes," Rick says, sitting down across from the prisoner at the table, the same place that Travis sat earlier.<p>

There was only one detail Rick was insistent about when he gave in: Kate wasn't going to be in this room with him. He appreciated her offer, but they both knew that would be too much. Even having her on the other side of the glass is closer than Castle is comfortable with her being to this man.

"And know this," Rick continues with a flat voice. "I am never coming back here again. So if you have something to say, this is your one and only shot."

"Richard," he says it almost as if he's scolding a young boy, and then shakes his head. "I'm innocent, you have to believe me."

"No, I don't."

"But we're family, and –"

"We're most definitely not family." Rick is done with this already, convinced it was a mistake to even attempt. The man across from him doesn't stir any kind of emotion other than anger for what he did to Beckett. "The evidence points to you, a jury of your peers found you guilty, and what's more, I have no doubt that you're responsible. Not a single doubt. You'll rot in here for the rest of your life, and then you'll rot in hell in the next one."

Rick starts to get up and signal the guard when a single question is enough to make him pause. "Did you ever stop to think what might have happened if Johanna Beckett lived?"

It sucks everything out of Rick for the briefest moment, most importantly, his ability to maintain calm. Of course he has thought about that, many, many times. It haunts him now just as much as it has always haunted Kate. "How dare you ask that."

"Miss Beckett doesn't become a detective," the prisoner says. "When you kill off Derrick Storm there is no muse. There's no new spark that reignites the joy of writing in you again. There's no Nikki Heat and new book deals and movies."

Rick shakes his head, trying to not imagine the scenario he's painting. It's not right, even though Rick can't help but see it, and feel the way it felt back then, adrift and unsure he'd ever find whatever it was that he'd been looking for.

His father continues; there's a quality to his voice as if he's putting someone under a spell. "Oh, I've read the interviews, Richard. I know what Detective Beckett means to you. It's plain to see that you're in love with her. But if Johanna Beckett didn't die, you'd never have met Kate, and never known the love of your life. Or is she just another girl? Another notch in the belt?"

"No," Castle shouts, standing and shoving his chair back. The fact that this man can talk about this topic as if he's discussing the weather is disturbing, and he has no right. Not to this. The anger inside is sharpening, focusing, and he's shaking with it.

"Have you ever considered the fact that the person responsible for the murder is someone you have a lot to thank for?"

"How dare you, you bastard," Rick snarls. He reaches across the table, getting his hands on the older man just as the guards rush in to separate them.

The old man laughs. "Maybe you and I are a lot more alike than you know, son."

Rick shakes the guards off of him. "I'm fine. I won't..." He takes a breath, "I wasn't going to…"

"Richard, when you've lived as long as I have and seen the things I've seen, you learn that the world isn't black and white. It is only shades of gray."

Rick takes one final look at his father, a guard still hovering behind him. In the harsh light of the prison, wearing a worn jumpsuit and handcuffs, the man before him is nothing but a shadow. One that briefly passed in and out of his life and will be left behind forever.

Rick exits the room, and Kate's immediately there. "It's OK," he whispers as they embrace.

"I'm so sorry," she says, muffled by the fact that she's tucked in against his chest and not letting go. "Are you sure that you're OK?"

He brushes a hand against her cheek; guides her to lean her head back so he can look into her eyes. The fact that he liked her eyes was the very first honest thing he ever said to her. They're bright, and they are that shade of coffee he has come to believe is his favorite color in the world. "He's wrong."

"Of course he is, Rick. He's a liar, a thief, and killer. He's wrong about a lot of things." She's still got a tight hold on him, the way that she reserves for those times when she's worried for him.

He has always loved her eyes. "The world isn't filled with shades of gray. It's filled with lots of brilliant, beautiful colors."

Kate leans in to kiss him, not having any idea that for him, she is the most brilliant of them all. If it came to it and he'd have to give up his books, his rediscovered love of writing, the money, and everything, it's a no-brainer. He'd give it all away without a second thought to bring Kate's mother back. But he has to believe that no matter what happened or didn't happen, he would have always found her.


	11. Chapter 11

It has been a quiet but enlightening day. Kate's already thinking ahead to how she's going to tell Castle her news, and she can't decide how exactly he'll react. He wasn't there to hear it firsthand, since she's only on light desk duty these first few weeks back and doing computer research to assist ongoing investigations is boring to watch. He's been home using the time to work on his next novel.

She's walking from where the cab dropped her off at the corner to the entrance to Castle's building. There are a couple of press guys sitting in their cars parked along the curb. One of them gets out of his car as she approaches, and she waves him off. It's a bizarre waste of time, because they know that she can't make a statement. The NYPD press office would handle any statement she'd make if it ever came to it.

There have been a few stray stories about the 'Trial of the Century' in the news the last couple of days about the reaction to the sentencing, but it's definitely dying out now. She and Castle living their own 15 minutes of fame is over. They can finally, thankfully, go on with their lives. Except for Castle's celebrity as an author, but she's not daunted by that; it's more minor leagues than Castle would ever admit.

There's Bob, just like always, sitting in his beat up car reading the paper. She knocks on the passenger window and he rolls it down. "I'm going to miss you, Bob."

"Thanks, you too. Starting tomorrow, they've got me assigned to this stuck up society brat who is marrying some other rich guy. Apparently, her dad is under investigation for securities fraud. Meanwhile, she's spending daddy's money left and right. I'm going to have to follow her to florists and dress shops all day long."

"Sorry to hear that."

"He your boyfriend now?" Bob asks, jerking his head to indicate Castle's loft. "I only ask because maybe you'll be getting married soon, and I'll run into you at the bakery or something."

Kate chuckles. "We'll see, Bob." She starts to back away with a wave and go inside the building, but an idea surfaces. It's a long shot, but there's one piece of the whole Jason Glendale case and their time at the beach house that still nags at her. She backtracks.

"You were there in the Hamptons, correct?"

He nods, "Yeah."

"Did you take pictures?"

"I've got this baby," he pats a fancy camera that's directed out the front window, and has a cord running between it and the computer on the passenger seat. "It takes time lapse, so I just set it to snap a photo every 60 seconds, or 5 minutes, or 20, or whatever."

That's more than a little disturbing. "Were you there the night that someone threw a brick through the upstairs window?"

A few minutes later she's dashing inside the building with even more interesting news to tell Castle.

* * *

><p>Rick hasn't been writing for more months than he cares to admit to anyone, but especially Patterson. Ever since he's been back in the city it's like the floodgates have opened. As a writer, he really hates how overused that particular metaphor is, but the problem is that it describes the feeling all too perfectly, and he hasn't spent time coming up with anything better. He's sure now that something was holding him back. With everything in his life such a mess for these many months, it's not too surprising that it was impossible to get anything down on paper that could make sense of it all. But now, suddenly, that floodgate opened and he's writing like mad.<p>

He's tempted to credit the fact that Beckett is back in his life, and in his life in a way that is new and wonderful. He's tempted, except that what he has been writing isn't Nikki Heat. He still knows her tone and characterization, and if he pushes himself he can get lines of dialogue out. But the problem is that he's distracted. He can't seem to stop with these new characters that have birthed in his mind, fully formed and ready to play, firing off at a rate almost faster than he can type. What a feeling! It comes and comes as if someone else is feeding him the words in giant spoonfuls. And it's good, he knows it is, maybe better than anything he's ever written before.

So he's decided to forget about looming deadlines and what kind of explanation he's going to have to come up with for Gina, and he's just running with it. He's been writing like crazy for weeks and the only thing he stops and takes a break for is Beckett.

As if on cue, he hears distinctive noises from the other side of his front door, so he saves the file he's been working on and closes it.

Beckett's had a spare key for his place on her key ring for years. Rick can't remember, but he probably gave it to her after that bomb blew up her place and she stayed in his guest room for a short time. So even though she's had it for a long time, she's never used it in quite the same way as she does now, to come home to him. It might be why he's weirdly obsessed with the sound of it turning in the lock.

Rick greets her at the door, hoping for a reunion that involves her pushing him up against the kitchen island and having her way with him, like she did when she came home the day before. But today Kate enters in a flurry of activity.

"Computer!" she says, dragging him along back into his office. She makes a typing gesture with her fingers. "Check your e-mail right now, Bob sent you something."

"Bob? As in our friendly neighborhood stalker-Bob?"

"Yes, check your e-mail please."

He clicks a few things and then swings the laptop around toward her so that she can see. Two attachments open and Kate makes a happy, almost-squeal, funny sound. Rick's not amused that Bob can get such a reaction from her.

"Should I be worried that you've grown attached to Bob, and we're going to have to adopt him now?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Castle," she says. "Look at those photos. One is of a brick being thrown, and in the next frame you can see a partial license plate of the car as it drives off."

"This car belongs to the person who threw the brick through the window of my house?" Castle's starting to understand her reaction now.

"Yes."

"And Bob's been holding out on us? I'm hurt."

"If I'm not mistaken, that same car was parked at the Suffolk County PD station when we went to visit your long lost friend Miranda."

He ignores the jab about Miranda, and instead tries to process what this all means. "So the brick wasn't a warning about the trial?"

"It was a warning about looking into the Glendale case. I called the station the day before to ask about it. Maybe someone else overhead the call. Maybe they didn't like that I was looking into it?"

"We," Rick corrects. "We were looking into it."

"There was no 'we' yet."

"Oh, baby," he does his best Casanova the Seducer impression. "There was always a 'we' you just didn't know it yet."

She rolls her eyes. "No, Castle, what I meant was that I hadn't even told you at that point. Nobody knew except people at the—"

"We have to call Miranda," he finishes, finally getting it.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you since I got here."

* * *

><p>They are on the couch watching a movie, and Beckett is doing that head-bob thing, where she's trying to stay awake but failing at it spectacularly. Rick is the opposite; he couldn't be more awake and anxious. They called Miranda hours ago with their news and e-mailed over the photos. She recognized the car as belonging to someone who worked at the station, and that's all she would say up front. She said she'd get back to them with any news. Castle assumed that meant soon, but hours have passed and the phone has remained silent all evening.<p>

Kate yawns, and he chuckles. "Why don't you go to bed?"

"I'm sorry, I…"

"Go," he says, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I'm just going to watch the news, and then I'll be in to join you."

Rick gets up with her, ready to assist, but once he sees that she's awake enough to be steady on her feet and not bump into furniture in his office on the way to the bedroom, he watches her go. He flips the channels until he finds local news, and it's only a few minutes later when the front door opens.

"Hello, anyone home?" Martha breezes in during the third top headline of the evening, a shooting in the Bronx.

"I'm here," Rick replies; he leaves the TV on and meets her in the kitchen. Martha opens the refrigerator, takes out a half-finished bottle of Pinot Grigio, and pours herself a big glass. "Something on your mind, Mother?"

She takes a sip, her eyes flitting past Rick's shoulder in the direction of empty TV area. "Kate's not here tonight?"

"She's here, already in bed asleep." He doesn't miss that his mother avoided any discussion of her day. Then again, maybe the generous glass of wine wasn't an indication of anything, it's not like his mother is known for needing an excuse to further pickle her liver.

"I had to endure a cast reunion tonight. Do you remember that zombie horror movie I was in years ago?"

"Oh yes." How could he forget? That's when she came to "stay for just a couple of weeks during filming in New York" and ultimately never left. The man scamming Martha of her millions coincided with that particular movie project.

"Well, the girl who was only 12 at the time is now all grown up and thinks she knows everything, but still very much the brat that she was years ago. Part way through dinner, she began a big argument with my former co-star, Clinton St. James, about the Meisner method. Which, of course, deteriorated into…"

Rick reaches over to take the bottle of wine and pour himself an equally generous glass. She's really on a roll when the news broadcast behind them comes back from commercial break and begins a story about the big trial. Tangentially related of course, because at this point there's not much left to cover, but it's enough to cause Martha to stop mid-sentence. She coughs, and then recovers a thread of her narrative.

"I'll go switch that off," he says, while his mother covers her fumble under the pretense of searching for a new bottle of wine to open.

When he returns, her back is to him and her head lowered. Rick puts a hand on her shoulder; she turns and hugs him. They've never been overly demonstrative, but they've also never denied comfort when either of them really needed it.

She says quietly, "I heard that you went to see him."

Rick mentally kicks himself; he should have been the one to tell her. Her odd behavior over the last couple of days is suddenly making much more sense. Rick's not sure how to respond. Apologize? Ask for her understanding? Tell her all about it or protect her from it?

He settles on simple and straightforward. "It was unexpected and quick, I'm not seeing him ever again. And I am fine, Mother."

Martha eases up. He takes the bottle of wine and corkscrew from the countertop in front of her and works to open the new bottle. It doesn't escape his notice that she started with cheap stuff and now decides to open a $200 bottle of grand reserve. A jab about that makes Martha roll her eyes and smile slightly. It eases the tension, just as he hoped, and they settle on the couch with refreshed glasses and an equally refreshed mood.

"Can you forgive me?" she asks in a way that makes him wonder if she's been waiting a very long time to get this question out.

Rick has always known that she loved him, and that she'd support him no matter what happened. Since he was a child, the one thing Martha Rodgers would guarantee was that his life was going to be an adventure. How does one even begin to say thanks for all of that? And how could he not forgive her for the one thing, the only thing, that briefly darkened his life? Besides, how could she even have known what that man truly was capable of? In the end, Rick's even more grateful that he was raised by Martha alone and had never known his father all along. It turns out that was the greatest blessing she gave him.

"There's nothing to forgive," he says, clinking glasses with her.

"And Kate?" This time her emotions surrounding the question are more masked, and not for the first time, Rick curses the fact that she's such a talented actress.

"Mother–"

"I didn't know who he really was, Richard. But that doesn't mean that I don't regret…" She takes a breath. "The sins of the father should never be borne by the son. Especially not when it comes to Kate, and how close you both came to almost losing..."

Rick cuts her short with what he believes is the honest truth. "We stumbled a little bit, but we're fine now. We're back on track. All of us."

* * *

><p>It's another 45 minutes before Rick finally enters his bedroom. He sheds all his clothes except for boxers, leaving the rest in a haphazard pile on the floor. Then slides into bed beside Kate.<p>

He's quiet about it, but Kate's breathing changes and her arm moves, a moment later she asks, "Everything OK? I heard Martha come in."

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't really sleeping anyway." Her drowsy voice, words almost slurred, is something else he's come to love about her. Her filter isn't in place at times like this and sometimes he can glean insights that he's sure in the light of day she'd never let slip. Late night talks in the dark with her are one of his new favorite things.

"Come here," he gathers her into his arms and can feel her breath against his collarbone. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing new." Her hand slides up his back and settles flat between his shoulder blades. "Going over for the thousandth time what I could have done in that interrogation room with Travis that would have made a difference."

"How about nothing?"

"Mmm."

That non-committal sound from her irritates him a little. He's tired of Kate beating herself up over this, but telling her to stop wouldn't matter. She's got to find her own way to move on, and all he can do is offer backup.

It's that thought that jars loose something important that they've both forgotten all about. She has news, and she didn't tell him. "Hey," he says casually, "didn't you have something you were going to tell me when you first came home?"

"About Bob's pictures?"

"No, not that."

"Oh!" She sits up in a flash, instantly wide-awake. "I forgot to tell you! I got promoted at work."

He sits up in bed as well. "Congratulations."

"Wait." Her body might be awake now, but her brain is taking a couple extra seconds to catch up. "How did you…?"

"Might have slipped out during my poker game last night. The mayor wanted to make sure I'd have champagne chilling for you at home. Which, for the record, I did, but I forgot all about it."

Kate shakes her head, but she puts her arms around his neck at the same time. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Have your dirty way with me anytime that you want?" he suggests, loving the grin that spreads across her face in response.

"Do I even need to tell you the details? Or do you already know that as well?"

"No, all I know is that you were promoted to head the newly resurrected cold case squad. For obvious reasons it went away after 9/11 because resources were needed elsewhere, but it's about time to get it running again, and I think it's perfect for you. The rest you'll have to fill me in on."

They settle back against the pillows, and he combs his fingers through her hair as she tells him about the new assignment. She's going to have some say in who will be chosen under her command; it's not surprising that Ryan and Esposito have already put in their names. The cases will be harder and take infinitely longer, if ever, to solve. But her hours will be a little more regular.

"I'm proud of you." He kisses her.

"I'm still going to need a sidekick from time to time."

"Well, obviously."

Kate rolls him under her and straddles his hips. There's a moment, each and every time they do this, when he is amazed all over again. His internal monologue goes something like: Really? Because I'm pretty sure I don't deserve this, or you, but I'm going to take it anyway. Woohoo!

Since the day Rick met Kate Beckett she's brought words to him. Things he wants to say about her, to her, to celebrate her. There are entire soliloquies in his head about how impressive her strength is, the loyalty and generosity of her heart, and yes, how hot she looks naked in the moonlight.

His hand runs up the back of her thigh, along the way bunching the material of her nightshirt. He settles his hand at her hip, urging her on as she grinds against him in slow, rocking strokes.

Sex with Kate is enthusiastic and fun, until it turns meaningful and beautiful and all those things that he wants to write romantic poems about, if only he were capable. This is about showing her, not telling for once, what she means to him. Demonstrating just how deep and lasting this goes for him, hoping that actions speak louder and she gets his meaning.

Rick's other hand cups her cheek, drawing her closer. Thin fabric is the only barrier preventing her breasts from brushing his chest and he longs for it to be gone, to lavish them with his mouth, but he can't reach her nipples at this angle.

"Kate," he pleads, wanting more leverage, but she's got him pinned and is probably enjoying that. In their exploits so far, he hasn't suggested yet that she cuff him, but there's probably something inevitable about that particular kink.

Beckett pulls back for a moment, sitting on her heels, hair wild, slight smirk on her lips and in her eyes. She lifts the nightshirt up over her head and tosses it into the corner. Her panties come off next, then she shimmies his boxers off and straddles his hips again, all while he watches her.

Stunning.

There's no better expression, and he knows, because he's tried them all. His hands caress up her sides and cup her breasts. Then they reroute to her back in order to pull her down on top of him again.

She positions herself over him and takes a second or two for the mere anticipation of it. She's always been a bit of a tease. He's never told her how much he loves that. Maybe someday.

They both moan as she lowers on to him, and when they kiss their tongues duel each other. She's over him, around, above, all consuming; drawing out both of their pleasure until he can't take the build up any longer, and he's moving his fingers between their bodies, trying to find the right spot, when it turns out that she has no need for the additional stimulation.

Kate says his name in a way that shreds apart any vestige of tethers on his control. The rush of release is made only sweeter by her contracting around him, her hand in his hair and her mouth meeting his in desperate relief and joy and love.

It's not fair, he thinks as he comes down from the high. He's a man who has too much already, blessings beyond what anyone could hope for in this life. He doesn't deserve this particular cherry on top of the sundae. He never expected to find love, let alone one that went beyond what he thought true love really was, in his second 40 years.

Rick is left with no words for the moment. None. They're curled together with her head on his shoulder and night air from the open window cooling their skin. He's caressing Kate's back and she's kissing along his neck lazily, the early stages of sleep apparent again. There are no words at all. He's left with only one thing. It's a non-word if you ask a purist, yet it's somehow the perfect description that even this writer can't deny.

Woohoo.


	12. Chapter 12

Rick pulls up to the station and lets his car idle while he waits for Beckett to appear. It's the Friday before Thanksgiving, and since she managed to get the entire week off, they're already headed up to the Hamptons. His mother, her father, Alexis, and Daniel plan to join them Wednesday night, but Rick and Beckett are leaving early because Miranda said she had some news for them, and it would be best if they could come in person.

When Kate walks out the front door of the building she's all smiles for the two cops she passes going in, but when she gets in the car the smile drops. Uh oh.

He doesn't even attempt a kiss. She's putting her seat belt on as he eases into traffic, and she still hasn't said anything beyond "Hello."

As they sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic, at long last he gives up and asks, "Is there something on your mind?"

"Is there something…?" She huffs a laugh that's not at all happy. "When were you going to tell me, Castle?"

"Tell you…" Uh oh again. He didn't realize that this was something to do with him; he just assumed she'd had a bad day at work or something. He's searching through his memories of this morning and last night to see if he can pinpoint it, but there's nothing. "What?"

"That your new book coming out next week is your last Nikki Heat."

Oh. That. The one he'd written last fall was finally out in print, and he'd had a long talk with Gina, but he'd been putting this conversation with Kate off for a while. But to be fair, no one was supposed to know about that yet. "How did you even find out?"

"Esposito and Ryan. It apparently leaked from your publishing company and now it's all over the Internet. I had to hear it from them, and I had to pretend that I already knew, because they assumed that of course you would've told me."

"And I was going to. I just hadn't found the right time." Besides, he honestly didn't think she'd be that fazed by the news. She never was overly excited about being the inspiration for it in the first place, and somewhere along the line she made peace with it, but to get this worked up? It made no sense.

"So how did you do it?" She crosses her arms over her chest and looks out the side window.

"Do what?"

"Don't play with me, Castle. How did you kill Nikki off?"

"Oh!" It all dawns on him now. He's keeping one eye on traffic and the other on her incredibly adorable expression, the one where she's trying to pretend like she doesn't care. "I didn't."

"But they said that—"

"I didn't kill her off. She's still alive and kicking. I told Gina that I might consider writing more Nikki Heat books in the future, but for now I wanted to take a break because I have a new series that I'm starting."

"You do?"

"Yes, so it just goes to show that you can't believe everything that you read on the Internet."

"Well," she gives in, letting her arms drop and her hands begin fiddling with the belt of her coat. "It's good to know that you're not sitting around thinking of ways to kill me."

"Oh please, I do that all the time."

She rolls her eyes.

* * *

><p>Rick answers the doorbell and greets Miranda and the guest she's brought with, a man in his late 20s by the name of Darren. Mr. and Mrs. Glendale along with their daughter Dana and son-in-law Grant are already seated near the fireplace, and Rick's not surprised to see Mrs. Glendale get up and amiably greet Darren despite the bizarre set of circumstances that have resulted in this cocktail party on a Sunday evening. Kate even made Hors d'oeuvres, as if that would lend an air of civility and normalcy to this entire thing.<p>

Rick pours Darren a drink and refreshes his own and Mr. Glendale's before sitting next to Kate. Miranda begins explaining. "Darren has been with our department since he was a teenager, isn't that right?"

Darren nods and is having a hard time meeting anyone's eyes. Rick would otherwise conclude guilt, but he knows, or rather he's learned from Beckett that the rules change when you're dealing with someone who has mental deficiencies.

"I'm good at my job," Darren says. It's not a defense, but rather a statement of fact, like he's simply repeating what he's heard on the last employee annual review.

"Darren," Miranda puts a hand on his arm, "can you tell us the name of your cousin?" Darren swallows, looks at her and then down at his feet. "It's OK, these are nice people and they want to hear what you have to say, just like you told me."

"My cousin…" Darren takes a sip of his drink. Rick made it very light on alcohol, but he feels for this poor kid and kind of regrets not giving him a little more in the way of liquid courage. "My cousin's name is Travis."

"That's good, Darren."

Darren's story slowly begins to tumble out. He was always following his older cousin around, wishing he could be more like him. He talks about life at home growing up with their grandfather and grandmother, because Darren's family was dead and Travis' father drank. At one point, Darren even recalls seeing Dana at a party talking to Travis, and she shakily accepts a Kleenex while Grant puts an arm around her.

Miranda guides Darren gently through telling his tale. It's a sad but all too often repeated pattern of neglect and abuse. Travis fell into increasingly darker thoughts and actions as a result of his background, and it's almost textbook. Darren didn't actually witness it, but he is later told the details of the first time Travis kills a young boy, instead of the animals in the woods he'd been, in his words, "practicing on" for years.

It turns out that the resulting years and eventual capture and trial of Travis Millicent broke their grandmother's heart until she died of it, and left their grandfather in a nursing home. According to Darren, "He can't ever be the same again."

"It's over," Darren says. He's meeting their eyes now, pleading in a way. "Travis was put away, and it was all over. I just didn't want it opened up again. I'm real sorry."

Mr. Glendale stands and excuses himself when the entire story is over. Mrs. Glendale and Dana are holding one another, with Kate nearby, and it leaves Grant and Rick to stand and thank Darren for his courage in telling what he knew. Rick accompanies Darren and Miranda to the door.

Darren's out on the front porch, but Miranda lingers back. She's going to drive Darren home, and Rick insists that she come back after and rejoin them. "At least for a nightcap?"

"Maybe," she says, but Rick knows she won't be back. She's fighting her own demons in this too; the fact that under her nose in her own stationhouse was a janitor with the answer all along. "We've talked to the DA, Rick."

"And let me guess. Even with this, they're not going to change their mind and charge Travis?"

"There's still not enough solid evidence, and besides…"

He understands, "Yeah. But at least you've given the family this, and I can tell you that it means a lot."

"No small thanks to you and Kate."

They exchange goodnights. Rick closes the door, not only to her, but to something that as a little boy he couldn't seem to let go of, that had lived in his nightmares for years.

* * *

><p>Kate has gotten the sense that the CastleRodgers family and the Glendale family don't typically have Thanksgiving together, but that this year, an exemption has been made. Castle insisted it had nothing to do with the recent revisit of Jason's case and how they've finally been able to put a face and name to the evil that took the young boy from his family, but Kate thinks otherwise. It's been difficult on all of them, but in some sense, there is something extra to be thankful for this year.

None of that gloominess hangs over the table, however. Instead the stuffing and cranberries and turkey are all being passed around amongst the noise of laughter and conversation. One of the Glendale grandchildren throws a roll to his cousin across the table and nobody seems to notice. It's the kind of loud family gathering with an excess of food that Kate had no experience with up until now. She glances over at her father, tucked between another teenaged Glendale grandkid and Martha. Her dad seems to be having a blast, and Kate can't help but take in the sight of it with wonder.

It's not like she hadn't noticed the changes in her own life, but she has been putting one foot in front of the other with her head down for so long that she wasn't aware. It's as though she's stepping back now for the first time and noticing the effect of that journey, the decisions and the turns in direction along the way have led to this. It's not only her that's changed, but all the people around her as well, as if the journey has shaken the snowglobe and the tiny bits of snowflake magic are falling on everyone, changing the fundamental perception forever for all gathered here.

It's a simple realization, but powerful enough to make her stop and take a breath. She has something that she never thought she'd ever find again after they buried her mom. She has family. She's a part of it, and she helps shape it and they shape her. Her own little corner of the world, and tonight it's a happy corner. And there are dinner rolls being thrown like footballs, but who really cares?

She reaches under the table and puts a hand on Rick's knee. It steadies her. And then she smiles wide and joins in the conversation, asks for someone to pass the potatoes, and lets go of the past.

"Kate, do you have a minute?" Martha asks. Kate nods and stays back while the others move to the living room. When they're alone gathering dishes from the table to carry into the kitchen, Martha says, "About the events that have unfolded over the last year, I wanted to… I just want to say…" Then almost chuckles at herself and shakes her head. "For an actress, I'm certainly having a difficult time working out my lines here."

Kate can guess what is on Martha's mind; it was exactly a year ago this week that everything to do with Johanna Beckett's case finally unraveled. There's a part of this entire saga that Martha has to carry around too. She's not responsible for any of it, but guilt is hardly ever a logical thing. The monsters that are responsible for inflicting pain almost never feel guilty afterwards; those that are pulled into loss due to the monster's actions never seem to fully forgive themselves.

"There's no need for you to say anything about it, Martha." Kate's not even sure who initiates it; perhaps they simultaneously reach out and clasp hands.

"But I am sorry, just the same." Martha sighs, dramatically of course. "The part I feel worst about is that it drove a wedge between you and Richard for a period of time. My secrets were never meant to hurt either of you."

"You didn't know what that man was capable of. You're just as much of a victim in all of this."

Martha doesn't appear convinced. "Regardless, I'm glad the two of you found your way back to each other."

"Thank you." Kate's not sure what to do next, exactly. Bonding time with Martha over the years has mostly been with Rick or Alexis or other people around. Not that she minds it; she enjoys it, actually. It's just, how exactly to be… "Coffee?" Kate asks.

"I'd love some." Martha moves around her toward the kitchen. "And we should probably set out dessert too. Though I don't know about you, but I'm not sure where I'd put it."

Family. A thrown together peculiar one, but it's family, and it feels good.

* * *

><p>When Rick comes up behind Kate, she's alone in the kitchen with the noise of everyone talking in the living room behind him. She's already loaded the dishwasher full, but there's even more dirty dishes remaining in the sink, so she picks up a bowl to begin washing it by hand.<p>

"Need some help?" he asks.

"Nah, I got it."

Other than Alexis' sweet potatoes and Kate's apple pie, Mrs. Glendale and her children did most of the cooking, so he's sure Kate feels that this is the least she can do. He hovers anyway, her back to his chest, her refection in the kitchen window his only way to see her face.

"You sure?" he asks, inching closer still but staying just shy of actually touching her.

"What are you doing?" She must detect some mischief because she quirks a half-smile, the kind that she can't hold back when she's amused by him but not wanting to indulge him.

"Nothin'." He puts a hand on her hip, the other arm circling around her to rest low across her belly. She leans back a little so her head can lie against him as she works, washing wine glasses and coffee cups and setting them in the drying rack to the right of the sink. He kisses her somewhere northeast of her left ear and gets nothing more than curly hair against his lips, but it's nice.

He considers how hot it would be if she let him slip his hand into her pants and flick her hard and fast until she came apart right here, with their backs to everyone, and her desperately trying not to make any noise.

"Don't even think about it."

How could she…? Oh. Now he's noticing his own reflection in the windowpane and yeah, that leer is definitely what gave him away. Plus his writer's imagination combined with a lot of field research over these last couple of months has allowed him to picture exactly what her expression would have looked like as she came, and how it feels to have his fingers moving inside her wet heat. It's made him half-hard on the mere concept alone, and he presses against her.

"Castle," she growls out her warning. It's sexy as hell.

He's quickly trying to calculate a plan here. There are people everywhere in the house and therefore there are not a lot of places they could escape to where it won't be noticed and there's no chance someone could walk in on them. Damn it, next year they're doing Thanksgiving alone.

"How about you meet me in the pool shed in five minutes?" he asks.

"No way." She's finishing the last dish and puts it down before spinning around to face him. "You did not just ask me to go out to the pool shed and have sex with you. It's not even a shed; it's got mechanical things and bottles of chemicals everywhere, and no heat. It's November and it's, like, 20 degrees outside, and you want me to get naked with you in a dirty shack?"

Well. When she puts it like that.

"Sorry, sorry, you're right." He glances over to where people are milling around and talking about gas prices and Syria and Christmas shopping. Yeah, that's so not appealing. "I'm an idiot."

"Yes you are." She leans in and kisses him on the cheek in forgiveness. "But you're a cute idiot. And you're my idiot."

"Yes, I am." He can't help but grin at her. The new car smell on moments like this has still not worn off yet. He's beginning to wonder if it ever will?

"So go in there, make small talk for a couple of minutes, make an excuse, and meet me in the garage." With that she was off, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Did she just…? The garage door closed behind her before his brain caught up with what just happened.

"Like the garage is any better?" he asks the empty room, as he stands there a little bewildered. Well, actually, now that he takes a second to think about it, at least it is heated. And it has that workbench at the perfect height so that if she were sitting on it, pantsless of course, he could totally…. She always has the greatest ideas.

Now all he needs to do is face the longest three minutes of his life. But otherwise, best thing to be thankful for on Thanksgiving ever! Yes.

* * *

><p>On Sunday morning, Kate wakes to the sound of two little birds outside the window chirping at each other. She lets her mind wander, speculating whether they are the same two birds from earlier this summer. Or are they the type of bird that doesn't migrate south for the winter, instead hunkering down together and toughing it out? Or perhaps they are late in getting their start this year? Maybe their nest here has come to mean so much that they are reluctant to leave, putting it off until the very last minute.<p>

She rolls over and finds the other side of the bed empty. The house is quiet, too; it's still early. She's about to get out of bed when Castle enters the room carrying two mugs and something else tucked under his arm.

"Coffee?" she asks hopefully.

He smiles and hands over a mug as she sits up in bed. He joins her, propping himself up against the headboard. "Everyone's still asleep," he confirms her suspicion. It's not too surprising, given that it was a late night watching movies and eating popcorn.

"What've you got?"

"This?" He pulls out the stack of papers several inches thick and held together by a big binder clip. "The first draft of my new manuscript."

She hadn't realized it was even started, let alone this far along. "Already?"

"Yeah, it kind of wrote itself." He pauses, regards her in a way that makes her shift. She's gotten used to morning looks that have to do with how much he likes it when her hair is all messed up or she's wearing one of his t-shirts. She's not used to something like this, something so serious before they've even finished their first cup of coffee. "Want to read it?" he asks.

"Really?"

This is not something he's ever offered. At first, she got the book the same day the public did. Later in their partnership he'd give her advanced copies, but those were always after he'd made revisions and editors had their pass on it also and it was essentially a finished book. But this? Sharing something that is rough and in progress? This is new, and she knows it means something significant. He never, ever shares his writing with anyone before it's polished and ready; that fact is easily found on his fan website. This is perhaps the most intimate thing he's shared with her, more laid bare than even sex.

"Yeah, really. I want to know what you think."

She's nervous for some reason. "Are you going to sit there and watch me read it?" He clearly hasn't thought this through by the way he reacts to her question. Which also tells her he hadn't planned this out. Perhaps it was a decision made on a whim this morning as he passed his office on the way to the kitchen to make coffee.

"I could go get the paper and look at that while you read? I mean, unless you really don't want to—"

"I do." She cuts him off before the writer-fears kick in. "I really do." She leans over and kisses him, taking the manuscript from his hands.

He smiles at her, relieved for the moment, then disappears in the hallway presumably to go find the paper on the front porch.

Kate sits back against the pillows and sips her coffee as she starts to read. A couple of pages in, she's so distracted that she doesn't notice at first that Castle has returned. He hands her a pen.

"For what?" she asks.

"To mark it up or make any notes you have."

She stops and can't help the overwhelming feelings that surface. This is more than just a courtesy, more than him opening up this last final part of himself to her. This is about trust and companionship and being true partners, in every sense. She gulps down more coffee to cover for it, and he offers to get her a refill.

After that, she's engrossed in the manuscript, and he doesn't interrupt. The first thing she notices is Castle's characters are brand new. A man and woman are co-leading characters, and they're married. She raises an eyebrow at that, but keeps reading without comment on it. The female character is a detective and the male character is retired, but it's a little unclear exactly what he used to do and how he made his money so that he could retire so young. Kate makes her first note in the margins.

As the story goes along, she can pick up bits and pieces of his inspiration. There's a side character that reminds her a bit of Bob, their summer stalker, always with his camera in hand. It's not hard to miss how some of the banter back and forth between the leading male and female characters reminds her a little of their own relationship, but it's also got its own unique flavor. And the characters are entertaining in a way that she's pretty sure she and Castle could never achieve even if they tried.

The story is rich with details; the case they are attempting to solve is interesting and has even her own experienced detective's mind twisted around and guessing. And the writing itself, it's… she's not even sure she can describe it. It's more mature, maybe? But that would imply that his previous work has been immature and that's not at all what she means. It's just that this story has more to it, more layers, more everything.

Halfway through, the evolution of things hits her. First, Castle had Derrick Storm, a man on his own facing the world. Then there was Nikki Heat; sure, she had Jameson Rook at her side some of the time, but the series was always focused on her. And now, for the first time, he's writing about two people. Two people who are in love and work hard together and it's as much about them as it is about solving crimes. You can tell by the writing that he's more comfortable with this than he's ever been before. This is Castle's journey, and it's ended here. She forces herself to put aside analyzing the implications and keeps reading.

Hours later, and more cups of coffee than she's kept count of, she finally turns the last page. By now Castle has been in and out of the room a half dozen times and has showered and changed. It's early afternoon and her stomach growls, but she's reluctant to get up, as if that might break the spell she's still under created by his words.

He pops his head in, a hopeful but guarded look on his face. "So?"

"It's good, Rick."

"You think so?"

"Really good." She can't even begin to tell him how much, but something in her expression must be enough because he grins. She reaches out to beckon him to join her back in bed, and when he does, she kisses him slowly and thoroughly.

"Wow," he says when she finally lets them both come up for air. "That good, huh?"

She chuckles. Then he asks for her notes and ideas, and she lays them out – places where he could clarify things, moments that he speeds through too quickly and she'd like to have the story linger a little longer, character questions she thinks remain unclear. He's genuine in his appreciation of her suggestions. She teases him about the male character being a little too head-over-heels for the female, but he insists that part is non-negotiable. They talk, debate, kiss, and more. They finally make their way downstairs and have a late lunch with Martha, Alexis, and Daniel.

It's like any other Sunday. But even better, there's a whole future of Sundays ahead of them. There's more of his books to be written, now with her help. There's certainly going to be more challenging cases ahead of her, and as always, he'll provide his own special Castle-brand of assistance. But for now, there's this Sunday stretched out before them with nothing more to do than to enjoy each other's company.

As for that, Kate wouldn't change a thing.

* * *

><p>Rick finds Beckett on the back porch. Of course, he should have looked there first. They are finished closing up the house for the winter, and the rest have all headed back to the city, but he and Beckett are going to spend one last night here in the Hamptons, alone.<p>

Beckett isn't on the swing, as usual, but at the other end of the porch, sitting on an old wicker loveseat with a faded yellow seat cushion. She looks up at him and smiles as he closes the sliding glass door behind him. Walking over to her, his bare feet make no noise on the wood deck boards.

As Rick sits down next to Beckett, he thinks about how this porch has become an important spot for them, starting back in the summer when he came out here and dragged her into that rainstorm. Looking back now, he realizes that's the night that everything really started to change for them. It was the tipping moment in the journey of them finding their way back to each other, again. And this time in a way that is more permanent than ever before.

That night, with the storm around them, he could feel the power of nature, of forces beyond his control. The sorts of forces that can change everything in a moment, forever altering the course of your life. But he had a hold on her during that storm; they never let go of each other.

It seems fitting, now, to be sitting here with his arm around Kate on this same porch. She leans into his side, putting her head on his shoulder. They're comfortable. They're happy. And best of all, he fully intends to grow old with her and one day be sitting on this porch thinking back to all the memories of their life spent together. Sure, there's going to be storms. But they've learned how to weather them together.

Today, the clouds that were overhead have rolled out to sea. The sun is shining and the sky and the water are bright blue.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks.

"That I'm really glad you let me follow you around."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks to all the readers that gave this a shot! I really appreciate those that were kind enough to send messages or reviews. Also, a big thank you once again to mrspollifax for her beta work and support.


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